Let's Not Change the World
by funanyaTHEmute
Summary: -Discontinued- Ouran is full of characters in need of a personal epiphany, but Haruhi's influence can only do so much. Sometimes you need the help of a 'special someone' to change you for the better - or maybe love you just the way you are. KyouyaXOC
1. Chapter 1

**Let's Not Change the World**

Chapter One

Disclaimer:I do not own Ouran High School Host Club or any of the dorkishly hilarious and adorable characters and plots. That pleasure goes to Hatori Bisco, who has an amazing name. If I were the proud owner of those Ouran boys (and girls ;D) they would be forever locked in my basement and never released into the outside world. Be thankful it was never me who came up with such a genious idea.

Also, let it be noted that I do not own the Fujifilm Company. Rights to that go to the REAL Komori family, who's first names and backgrounds I have changed. Karitei's family is completely made up and does not at all reflect the realistic Komori family's lives.

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_Ouran Private Academy is defined by..._

_...One, prestigious families, and_

_...Two, wealth._

_And prosperous people have much time on their hands. Therefore, the Ouran Host Club is about these handsome guys that have time giving hospitality to these lovely ladies who also have time...and profit off them. It's an elegant game unique to this super-rich school._

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"Komori-san, this is our new special scholarship student, Fujioka Haruhi-chan. Fujioka-san, please meet the junior class advisor, Komori Mikazuki-Karitei-chan. She will be in charge of guiding you for your first day."

I gave this Fujioka Haruhi my best forced smile, inwardly wanting to shred this person's cloths, break those atrocious lenses in half and run a comb through their hair. Couldn't they have at least attempted to clean up a bit? Were commoners really so grungy?

"I trust you, Komori-san, to keep Fujioka-san in good hands. You are dismissed."

With that final word from the chairman I bowed, not daring to cast a glance to the side at the special student to see if she had done the same. Surely this person knew their manners when showing respect? If not, then having the intellect to be enrolled into this school (given her social status and appearance, that brain of hers had to have been the **only **reason she reached Ouran's standards) must give her enough sense to follow my lead. Eyes closed, I made my way out the door into the hall, standing aside politely as Haruhi sauntered to my side. The headmaster's door snapped shut behind her back.

Blinking, I took in the scene before me more thoroughly. Suou-sama had addressed this person as a girl, but could that really be true? There was not an ounce of femininity before me. Baggy black slacks, over sized, white collared shirt, worn-out and stretched deep plum sweater: not even close to an attempt at the Ouran High official uniform, male or female. It was a certain guarantee that there was absolutely no hope at all of her fitting in with the crowd. The thick black glasses obscuring this poor girl's features hid the possible potential her face could have been granted. And that hair, where should I begin? The masculine cut could have worked with her facial structure had it been styled successfully. The "just out of bed" look only worked, however, when product and effort was involved. There was no such thing as effortless, ungroomed bed-head. Even that required some type of mousse or gel sculpting. How could this girl possibly miss all of these basic beauty criteria?

She regarded me dully as I studied her, slumped over in her stance and seeming to be a foot under my head. What horrible posture. I wasn't sure if I actually wanted to see her walk. Cavemen were sure to have more of a backbone than this girl. We would most certainly need to work on that.

She coughed pointedly, the motion prolonged and drawled in a way no other student of Ouran Academy would have ever dared. How rude of her, this common girl. I realized my scrutiny had made her uncomfortable but a simply clearing of the throat would have sufficed just fine. The sound that had come from her mouth gave me the fear that she was hacking up some type of hairball.

I straightened my stance, tearing my eyes from their in-depth scan and bringing a polite, welcoming grin onto my face. Her golden orbs stared up at me owlishly, not quite sure how to regard my actions. Her eyes really were quite pretty - so large and an extraordinary color.

"On behalf of the junior class, welcome to Ouran Academy, special scholarship student Fujioka Haruhi," I addressed, voice trained into velvety perfection. I inclined my head politely, not quite finding it in me to go for a full bow. She didn't seem to mind in the least, thankfully, only sweat dropping for some reason unfathomable to me. Did commoners not have such a greeting in their life systems? Was there something I said that she didn't understand?

"Ah..." she gurgled. I raised a well-plucked brow, awaiting her words. "Ko...mori-san?"

I nodded curtly, hoping she would continue quickly.

"You said 'on behalf of the junior class', am I correct?"

I repeated the previous motion, wondering about her inquiry. Was she not proficient in Japanese? They hadn't mentioned anything about her being foreign.

"But...you do know that I'm a _freshman_ student, don't you? Why wasn't one of the freshman advisors assigned to be my tour guide?"

I cringed just slightly at her word choice. Tour guide? Nonetheless, I pulled the corners of my lips up, gazing down at the ruffled being warmly.

"It seems as if the tenth grade representatives were booked up for today and unavailable to be of assistance to you at this time. I was asked to provide in their place. I hope that won't be a problem, Fujioka-san?"

She slowly shook her head, hair barely following the movement. I held my lips in place with a purse, preventing them from curling. It was as if she hadn't had a proper wash in days. Was this just the natural texture of commoner hair? Was it always so wiry, flat and unflamboyant?

A heaved sigh came from her mouth, directing my attention back to the girl's melancholy face. If only I could give her a good bath; take her out shopping. It really was a shame to the name of Ouran to have this creature educated within her ivory walls.

"Anou, Komori-sempai? Shouldn't you start showing me around now? Classes will start soon."

For the final time I blinked back into reality, giving up on my mental makeover and releasing a dainty sigh of my own. As desperately as she needed it, a drastic physical alteration was not on the agenda for the moment.

I plastered another smile onto my face, making an agreeable sound and walking forward. The heavy, dragging footfalls in my wake made it blatantly obvious of Haruhi's stalking. With my back to her, I allowed a frown to etch itself onto my cheeks. Was there really no hope to this girl at all? For such a gifted, studious commoner, could she really not put a fraction of the effort she applied to education into her looks and presentation? Even with the greatest mind in all of Japan, with a silhouette and mannerisms like that she would never succeed in the prosperous world of business. Appearance and esteem was half of it, skill only counting for the other.

"Ne, don't you need to know where it is you need to lead me, Komori-senpai? We can't just wander around the halls aimlessly. Do you need to know my class number and schedule?"

"Class 1-A. I've already been informed, Fujioka-san. I plan on pointing out the vital locations as we come to them. Please be patient and pay attention to your surroundings, as to prevent future misdirection. Take this time to memorize the landscape of the school, if it's not too much trouble."

I could hear the air catching in her throat at my instantaneous response but she quieted, no doubt following my direction and gazing around. My lips twitched in approval, face projecting a state of calm at the turn of events. At least the girl wasn't difficult - I'd give her that much. She seemed to know when to speak and when not to. Nothing like the twittering chatter-boxes that plagued nearly all of the female population of the school. In that sense, I found this Haruhi's personality to be far more tolerable than other females I'd encountered.

On the negative side, the slapping of her duck-like steps seemed to echo off the antique walls, each footfall undoubtedly backed with nearly all of her body weight. I tried not to imagine the hunched form of her curved spine, shoulders pushed up parallel to her ears as she leaned forward for propulsion. Whoever taught her how to walk deserved to be burned at the stake with the witches of Salem. This gait was simply unacceptable for an Ouran student. It would most certainly need to be altered.

I pulled my shoulders back, reaching out my neck to create an exemplary 180 degree body posture, hooking my arms behind my back with casual nonchalance and walking on the balls of my feet. Hopefully the girl would notice the racket she was making and follow my silent and elegant example.

Apparently she was far too absorbed in her mapping of the school to acknowledge my efforts.

I came close to groaning at her obliviousness, settling for a light exhale when I remembered that it was under my direction that she had been looking at all else but me.

The journey was near silent conversation wise, only broken with speech of an important location in the building she would need to note. Upon entering the south hallway, it became apparent to me that the final place worth mention was, in fact, the class 1-A homeroom itself. Curiosity getting the better of me, I couldn't hold myself back from speaking out.

"Fujioka-san?" I gained her attention instantly, her neck snapping in my direction as I looked over my shoulder coyly. I paused, wondering the best wording for such a rude question.

"Forgive me, but Suou-sama addressed you as 'Fujioka Haruhi-_chan_'. Saa..." I found it impossible to continue, cheeks reddening at my own audacity in opening my mouth for such a thing. I quickly averted my attention, bringing my head forward once more, my silken locks waving in the air behind me at the motion.

"Anou, Komori-sempai, you want to know whether or not I'm really a girl, ne?"

The sheer bluntness of her tone caught me completely off guard, freezing my steps in a millisecond and draining my face of color. Only once my widened eyes began to dry out did I blink, body coming back to life as I wheeled around to gawk open-mouthed at this commoner. How entirely...! I couldn't even come up with such an adjective! This girl...was this the average commoner woman? Were they all so...disregarding? Were they even _human_...?

The boredom in her eyes wasn't attempted to be hidden, gazing glumly back as if this was an annoyingly over-played scene for her. "Hai. I'm a girl, if you were wondering."

And that was it. She continued, stepping to the side to avoid my stationary form. I remained in that same position, not finding enough dignity at the moment to pull myself together. Never before had I lost my composure like this. That girl - why did she have to be so utterly unpredictable? No woman of wealth would ever even consider such a shameless display! As if her appearance didn't ostracize her already, that horrid temperament would sure to stick out like a sore thumb. By the end of the day, all would know the name of this new special scholarship student, Fujioka Haruhi.

"Komori-senpai, this is my class, ne? It says 1-A, so I'm guessing it must be. I suppose I can make it from here. Thank you for the tour. You really helped out a lot."

My jaw closed, eye lids gradually lowering to their rightful place. Looking back, I watched Haruhi grip the handle, about to enter the room before a sudden thought seemed to strike her. She started back, her golden gaze finding mine without hesitation.

"By the way, Komori-sempai, does this school have any reading rooms? I'd like to read during breaks so I can keep my grades up."

I nodded numbly, mind still not gathered.

"Ah, hai. There are...about four, at least. They'll be easy enough to find. Many students gather there at breaks as well. All the same, I'll try to meet you outside of your class here for lunch to lead you there, if you'd like."

Her head bobbed up and down in understanding. I took that to be a nod.

"Arigatou gozaimasu, Komori-sempai. Ja matta."

She disappeared into the classroom not a moment later. I permitted emotion to play across my face only then, no longer finding a reason to hold back. That girl was nothing I had ever come across before. Her shameless, uncaring confidence was almost barbaric. How could a person possibly care so little for how people perceived her? Was she always so unruffled, even when others questioned her _gender,_ of all things? Could there have been a worse insult to a person's identity? Was that the commoner way? Did they all disregard the social hierarchy? Was there no echelon among the people? What a strange way of life those commoners had.

I shook my head lightly, pushing crimson hair out of my face and regaining my composure once more. I found myself smiling unconsciously, almost looking forward to the afternoon break. Maybe that Haruhi wasn't quite as aberrant as she first seemed. Still true that she could never hope to fit into the ways of Ouran Academy, but there might just be some use for her yet.

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"So much for showing her to the library..." I muttered, turning in a circle for the final time. The hall was desolate, the classroom just as much so. Every student had all ready cleared the area for whatever recreational activity they chose to take part in. It seemed Haruhi had forgotten about our plans, however. Either that or she couldn't be bothered to wait. My classroom wasn't in such proximity as her patience seemed to handle. Added to the fact that I was fighting against the current of students only made the task more time consuming. Perhaps she had ditched me? The nerve of that commoner girl.

I left it at that, giving up the hunt and wandering off. I wasn't hungry in the least and didn't feel up to socializing. I settled for walking the empty hallways, admiring the fine craftsmanship and maybe finding Haruhi along the way. Now that I thought about it, there was no way she would be able to settle in one of the reading rooms. While I had mentioned that many students gathered there for break, I had neglected the point that they weren't there to study as she was. There would be far too much noise and clutter for her to concentrate properly. Students with their looks and names didn't need to rely a fraction as much on their talent as she (as an unattractive commoner) must. They had their futures laid out before them already and had no need to study and work hard quite yet. Myself included. Not that that was a cause for me to slack off, of course.

I, Komori Mikazuki-Karitei, contently held the position of number four in the junior class. Not so phenomenal as the first place champion or runner-up, but respectable all it's own. That was an achievement deemed as acceptable to myself and my family. While they took pride in their daughter, I saw it as my duty to provide something for them to brag about. Just because we had the wealth and the Komori name didn't mean that would always be enough. We needed to hold onto that power by continuing to grow. There was no room for slack.

Number one in the class was, of course, Ootori Kyouya - heir to the Ootori medical and police companies. Well, heir was the incorrect term. More like younger brother of the two heirs: third in line. I suppose the only thing capable of him accomplishing was the number one position in ranks. After all, he would continue to be the underling of the family business throughout his life. It was only to be accepted that he work to his full potential, if only just to exceed expectation. He really had no logical reason to strive; nothing to work towards, live up to or look forward to. The rest of his life was already planned out for him as a trapped dog, working at the whim of his elder brothers. His cool attitude reflected his bitterness. I doubted even the fluffiest, cuddliest of kittens could get the teen to crack a true smile. How pathetic.

The number two position was kept by Suou Tamaki, son of the chairman. The Suous are regarded as one of the wealthiest families in Japan and therefore it was only to be expected that the heir remained at the top of the class. Although, no one would ever guess from the outside that the boy was eminent. He placed a great deal of pride and emphasis on his handsome features and I had yet to figure out where the European bloodline lineage had come from. However, the curiosity always seemed to be forgotten as soon as he opened his mouth. While other girls swooned and fainted at the sight of their "prince" I found the entire act quite silly. The boy was too over-dramatic and quixotic for my tastes. All the same, I couldn't quite find it in me to hate him. Annoying, yes, but still a rare kind and empathetic being to find in this type of competitive environment. He was more than happy to lend a hand in any situation and put all of himself into the task. Strangely enough, he and his polar opposite Kyouya were best friends.

The only other junior of higher ranking than me was a girl by the name of Jounouchi Ayame, junior class vice-chairman. While she displays an offense towards Tamaki's abrupt bump into her previous position as number two upon his entrance into the academy, her admiration for the boy is even clearer. It seemed that not even she was immune to the man's debonair flirting.

I turned the corner, still trapped in a reverie. As the hall came into my recognition I halted abruptly, though, body tensing. Of all the amazing architectural antiquity, this particular corridor was the bane of my educational workplace. I avoided this path at all costs unless there was absolutely no alternative route. Luckily none of my classes required me to journey this far north. I was rather astonished that it was emptied at the moment. Perhaps the hours were not open? Why had my unconsciousness forced me here? What could have possibly caused this misleading?

To my direct left was the first music room. I was no musician, so I had no reason to have ever entered. Farther up, the next door led to the second music room. Again, there was no fathomable purpose for me to have ever entered. It seemed like a logical enough explanation for me to have never wandered this northern corridor, but there was far more to it. Because after the second music room there was one other. There was a third.

The very last thing that room, the third music room of Ouran, could have been used for was music. Unless a certain cosplay act required it, of course. While a majority of the female population found this room to be their cloud nine, it seemed to give off a baleful glow in my eyes, the rotten stench of brain-devouring gases oozing out from under the door in a foul-colored smoke. I feared my intelligence quotient would drop simply from being so close. I couldn't imagine ever actually going into the room.

But I wonder...

Could Haruhi possibly be in there right at this moment? She was still a female, after all. Was she somehow enraptured in the so-acclaimed glory of those inhabitants? But still, surely she was smart enough not to become caught up in that type of nonsense. I mean, just look at her! If she cares so minutely about her appearance it could only be assumed that boys scored even lower on her scale of importance. There was no way she would allow herself to be side-tracked by something as meaningless and useless as the matters of the third music room. She was here to study and nothing more. There was no rational possibility that she could be in there.

But even still, what if?

If my assumptions had been correct, she would have found the reading rooms and noticed the wholesome lack of order; she wouldn't have settled there. She would have wandered more, looking for some place quiet and preferably barren to do her studying. As I had stated, this hall was completely devoid of students and noise. I knew for a fact that the first and second music rooms were locked at this time, so the only logical choice would be to try the third.

A sudden sense of panic struck me. When thought about, it was actually alarmingly likely that the commoner could be behind those doors. Suou-sama had placed Haruhi under my charge for the day and instructed me to keep her under my wing. He had entrusted me to take responsibility of her, make sure she stayed on the right track and didn't fall into wrong hands.

That room was most certainly the wrong hands.

Was it worth it? Was sacrificing both my self-respect and possible existence worth rescuing Haruhi? I knew I could never return to the same way of life if I were to succumb to the infamousy of the north corridor's third music room. I was sure to be scarred in some way. But when an elder entrusts you with something, isn't it necessary to go through with it at all costs? What would happen if I weren't to rescue Haruhi?

That would be perfectly acceptable, of course. The fact of the matter was, the chairman's own son was the president and founder of those going-ons. If Suou-sama found something inappropriate or dangerous about them he would certainly shut it down. I'm sure he would never know that Haruhi came across this path on this particular day in the time she was in my charge. It wouldn't matter to him one bit.

But there was still an overwhelming sense of guilt as I took a step back. Could I really just leave her to fend? She was naive to the entire situation; who knows what trouble she could getting into under those influences. It was foolish of me to worry about her falling into the trap that so many other of the female population were imprisoned. The only trouble Haruhi would face was the same as me - a permanent mar on the back of her mind that served as an unignorable distraction from matters that actually had some type of purpose in life. She was different than the other students: she didn't care in the slightest that I couldn't tell her sex. I'm sure I wasn't the only one to notice the masculinity. Her classmates had probably all assumed she was a male. She didn't care about appearances, handsome men or anything that didn't involve studying and education. We were so much alike in that aspect. None of the other girls found half as much interest in their studies as their beauty and the beauty of others. She was a rarity. Could I really leave someone with so much potential to their undeniable destruction?

I bit my lip, hesitating for a long moment before my leg stretched forward. Five steps in and I was still internally debating if this was the right choice. Before I could come to any conclusion, I was already standing before the third music room. I released a small squeak, brows furrowing in worry. Would this be the last sight before my death? Was this the image I would have to replay over in my head throughout nirvana? I hoped it wouldn't come to something so drastic.

Furthering the discomforting anxiety in the pit of my stomach, faint voices could be heard from the other side of the door. I consoled myself with the thought that I could listen in and find out what exactly was going on in there before simply barging in. Nodding decidedly, I leaned forward and pressed an ear against the door.

"Even if you are the top student, you are also the poorest in this school," the luxuriant voice of Tamaki Suou called out. A rather large sweat drop ran down the side of my face; there was no doubting that Haruhi was inside. "People will call you a weed and you will be despised as a lower person!! But have no fear, I praise the poorest! What is important to the hero is reckless spirit! All hail poverty!!"

I could imagine him prancing around the room, flourishing his arms like a royal. What was all that talk of a hero? That poor, unsuspecting commoner girl...

"No, I'm not as bad as you make it sound...!" Haruhi dismissed frantically. Just as I had thought, she was in no way wanting to remain in that chamber. I had to go in and save her from the possible trauma. If only I could convince my body to make those movements...

"Nonsense! Welcome to our wonderful world, pauper!!"

A moment of silence went by and I waited on baited breath.

"Shitsuree-shimasu," I heard the female grumble. My eyes widened. Was she excusing herself? Perhaps I wouldn't have to brave the jungles of hell after all.

"Ne, ne! Haru-chan!" a toddler-like voice cheered. A slightly deeper squawk and the sound of a dragging body followed. I slumped in despair. She wouldn't be coming out freely anytime soon if those boys had anything to say about it.

"Haru-chan, Haru-chan! Are you a hero? Sugoi na! I want to hear about the time you saved the queen!"

"A special student, not a hero," Haruhi cleared up awkwardly. Unexpectedly, her voice took on a ferocious yell. "Wait, _who are you calling Haru-chan_!?!"

"But I never expected the famous bookworm to be gay..."

I tensed in my spot. That had been Tamaki speaking again. It was predictable that they would make assumptions like that. While it was slightly humorous, I could only think about the trouble it would cause Haruhi. If only it had been any one else but this club. Couldn't she have simply socialized during this time instead of focusing on grades, just this once for the first day? I could have explained to her the horrors of this group! Damn that commoner. She had no idea the conundrum she had just put herself - and me, by extension - into. I couldn't wait it out any longer, I realized. It was now or never at this point.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door to the Ouran High School Host Club.

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**(A/N) ****Be warned: my OC is not one of those rich girls who inexplicably sympathizes with 'commoners'. Karitei is a total a snob, basically. My reasoning in doing that is simple - it's what Ouran students are like (on some scale). I've never actually read a fanfiction where the main OC was an Ouran student both inside and out, in persnality and standing. There will be little mercy towards Haruhi in the beginning of this and I know a lot of people (particularly those who didn't bother to read this message) won't like or understand how I'm starting things off with this story. I promise, both Karitei's unlikeable personality and the overly-proper writing style will get better in time ;]**

**Anyway, I hope you liked it. But go easy on me - I'm new to and totally not used to this formatting system :P Please review! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Let's Not Change the World**

Chapter Two

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I was accustomed to having all eyes on me; it came with the territory of being the coming-of-age daughter of a prestigious family. Each business engagement or family outing was an opportunity for me to look my best and be the perfect example of what everyone wanted their daughter (or wife, as my current age group stressed upon) to be. It helped to "draw more consumers in," as my mother had once told me while I was young and impatient with the preparing process. I had long since grown used to the hours of prepping before hand, learning that it was necessary. I enjoyed or at the very least was comfortable with hundreds - sometimes thousands_ - _of eyes staring at me in a single duration of time. I put up with the beautifying process and stood as a mannequin at my father's side, not minding in the least that I was merely there as a tool; it was part of my purpose. I could handle the overly-styled hair and caked on make-up if only to please my father and keep his business running on the top. Who wants to associate themselves with a rugged pedestrain, after all?

I learned to accept the captious stares of all of his executives. I wasn't so modest as to call my appearance unappealing, nor was I naive enough to fool myself in the belief that my father's male associates and their sons engaged in my company solely for the conversation. It was the way things worked. You accepted, learned, and controlled it. It could notoriously be known as the "art of manipulation". There were certain times I almost enjoyed the entertainment of males' attention; the thrill of getting into their minds and negotiating the next move. I had made a game from it for my own selfish entertainment. No one can deny the feeling of absolute power as you stood at the top, the center of all attention.

This, I recalled, standing before a small group of handsome young men, was the first moment I had thoroughly hated it.

All six males and the manly female snapped their necks to the door as I entered, a river of rose petals cascading into my view and marring my sight momentarily. Despite this handicap, I was unpleasantly surprised that I could still feel each one of their eyes boring into my discomforted form. I didn't think I'd been so uncharacteristically self-conscious since my first company campaign as a child - the first time I stood before hundreds of my father's business partners. How strange that after all of this time these seven simple people could pull such a reaction out of me.

The petals ceased their decline, settling at my feet and leaving me (and them, the Club) within plain view. I vaguely wondered in the back of my mind (if only to serve as a distraction, I wasn't sure) if the welcome accompanied every one of their customers. If so, how did their help clean up the mess? They would have to have a maid come between each of their visitor's entrances. What a waste of labor.

Tamaki seemed to be the first to identify me, muttering out, "K-Komori-chan...?"

Almost simultaneously, Haruhi joined him with an exceedingly more put-together, "Komori-sempai?"

I frowned deliberately, demonstrating my dislike for the situation. I took a moment to release a refined sigh, sucking up my displeasure and gliding forward a single step to bow politely before my company.

"Konnichiwa, minna-san..."

I let my head fall forward lightly in the bow, closing my eyes in inward thought. How could Haruhi possibly have motivated me to do such a disreputable thing?! What was I thinking hypnotizing myself into this?! I should have remained behind the confinements of that door - never entered!

I decided an amiable amount of time had passed in silence, enough for me to gather my wits and face the room once more. The sooner I began, the sooner I could leave. I pulled my back straight, lifting my head and re-opening my gaze.

And instantly I was met with overwhelming mauve orbs. In fact, the (admittingly amazing) colored eyes seemed to be taking up my entire line of vision, blocking out any background distractions. I startled, not at all expecting Tamaki's proximity and craning my neck backwards with a jerk only to find his hand already cupping the skin and, with a caressing touch, tactfully pulling me in even closer.

"Komori-hime, what an extraordinary pleasure it is for you to grace us! Such a ravishing creature should never be kept from the public eye for so long! Please, Komori-hime, allow me to cradle you in my arms until the world ends, protect you with my very soul and grant you any wish your heart desires! I only ask for your promise of passion in return..."

I could feel my entire being clam up, eyes darting rapidly between both of Tamaki's. I hadn't the least clue what it was he was blabbering about but I was sure it was the same treatment his guests received. Did he think I was one of them? The hazed gleam in his eyes simply oozed a sense of eternal amorous; a painstaking amount of overbearing, loving devotion. I found the act far more frightening than seductive. I could only think about how much closer he would bring our faces - when he would stop. If he would stop. How far was too far? Was there a too far for him? He couldn't possibly go _that_ far. I was under the impression that the young men drew a line with their "hosting". Where exactly was this line at the moment? I felt he had crossed it some time ago! Why did he keep advancing? Did those love-struck twits actually enjoy this? The tip of his nose brushing - itching - against theirs? I longed to get rid of the annoying sensations; to swat it away like a degenerate pest.

And I did.

The slap cracked through the atmosphere like a whip, echoing around the silent room with baleful vibrations. My hand instantly began stinging sharply, only slightly soothed by Tamaki's warm cheek until his head had been retched too far. All froze at the moment, none of us daring to make a move or sound. My eyes widened; had I actually just done that? Had I really just _hit_ Suou Tamaki across the face? The answer was right before me - he was still standing as close as ever, though his neck was pivoted completely to the right, chin parallel with shoulder and brilliant blond hair askewed. My eyes uneasily made their way up to his flawless cheek, now smoldering pink. How could I have ever found that much strength in myself?! I had never assaulted anyone before. Did it really come so naturally?

No, maybe this was all part of his act. Surely I hadn't hurt him that much! It must have looked worse than it felt. Then again, even my palm was suffering from the blow. I unconsciously rubbed it, eyes still unblinkingly glued to Tamaki. I had almost begun feeling horribly at fault with my actions before I remembered what had driven me to them. He had to have gotten a reaction similar to the sort before, hadn't he? Not every girl would want a man to be so unwelcomely bold. He would have known I would take it like this; he would know to apologize and speak civilly rather than try to corrupt my mind with his cheesey demonstrations. He must have encountered this type of rejection at some other time and know how to handle it like a mature adult.

I allowed myself to blink, still in the early stages of waking from my daze. By the time my eyes had re-opened, Tamaki was gone.

I was, perhaps, more startled now than I had been initially when he appeared before me in such an uncomprehendably quick amount of time. At least during that occasion my head had been lowered, eyes closed for more than just a fraction of a second. This time a mere blink was long enough for the boy to entirely vanish from my view. I stepped back in alarm (was there some type of curse in this room? Was I hallucinating? It was the only sensible explaination) hands jumping reactively up to my chest and breath hitching. My eyes widened and twitched, sweeping the room in a hectic search. I was magnetically attracted to the woeful shadow in the closest corner. Hues of blue radiated from the black cloud surrounding Tamaki's hunched back, small murmuring only competing with the barely intelligible squeak of his finger tracing the floor. What? What in the name of... what was the meaning of this?

Maniatic laughter boomed like bomb, nearly jumping me from my skin as I released an embarassing shriek. Two of the boys - or, wait? _One_ of the boys? I must really have been separated from my right mind - I was seeing double!

The cloned boys clutched each other around the shoulders, free arms wrapped around their trim stomachs as they cracked up, heaving out laughter from the tips of their identical toes. I had completely forgotten about the others in the room. No then, my vision was serving me perfectly well. These were those freshman twins many of the girls went on about - the Hitachiins. I took deep, steadying breaths, mind and self coming together and remodeling emotions. I had to be rational - these boys were not normal and would need to be dealt with using the utmost caution. They were in their own league entirely.

They were the Ouran High School Host Club.

"Ha ha ha! There aren't many people that could hurt him this much, ne, Kaoru?"

"Aa, Hikaru! Slacking off from work, tono? Could you be losing your touch?"

The jeers sent Tamaki into another wave of anguish, only fueling the twisted twins' fire. I took another involuntary step backwards, wanting nothing more than to flee this horrid place and never set my eye upon it again. I fought to keep the raging emotions from being expressed in my appearance, managing to limit the visage to furrowed brows, tensed limbs and curled hands. It was as I concentrated on this that some four-handed demon slithered it's fingers up the length of my arms, swiftly coming to a rest at my elbow and heaving me forward, deeper into the room. I fumbled on a gasp, ashamed to realize that a whimper had left me as my heels helplessly dug downward in a vain attempt to slow to a halt. I was released into a petrified state at the heart of the chamber, not even moving the slightest as the two pairs of hands left my limbs and molded before me into mirroring forms. The four golden orbs narrowed slyly, gleamed with an unmistakable sin.

"Ne, who is this?" one of them questioned, both poising a long, thin finger to their narrow chin at precisely the same moment.

I felt my hand being grasped softly, prying it tenderly from my fingers. I snapped my head up to the culprit, knowing that the mutated brothers were still in plain sight before me. My, how friendly this group was - as I should have expected. There was no such thing as personal boundaries within this dungeonous chamber. These hosts just popped out of the walls like rodents.

"Komori Mikazuki-Karitei," Kyouya voiced, turning my palm over in his feather-light grip. His finger tips danced across the colored skin, regarding it with eyes hidden behind the glare of his lenses. "Class 2-A, age 17, eldest child of Komori Shigeo and Komori Imma."

I could sense the others' avid following but never bothered to take my gaze off the man examining my hand so carefully. Who did he think he was, touching me without permission?

A sudden sense of gallance filled me, allowing me to take control of the situation and built up my charge once more. I pulled my hand from my classmate's grip, watching his brow raise into his hair line. He looked up at the motion, having been bent over slightly in his previous actions, just enough to deflect the light from his glasses and grant me sight of his eyes. I stepped back, rubbing the offended limb to rid myself of the goose-chills and masking the notion with a leveled tone.

"I should expect as much from you, Ootori-san," I hummed, not allowing myself to cast a glance anywhere but his own mocha orbs. He was the type you had to watch out for - never take your eyes of for the slightest of moments. That was all it would take for him to gain the upper hand. "And I expect of you to know my height and weight as well?"

He smirked at the challenge, immediately responding, "height: approximately one hundred and sixty eight centimeters; weight: fifty -"

I cut him off within a flash, feeling the newly conversant sting on my palm. I pulled my hand from Kyouya's lips just as fast as it had been sent, blinking the horror from my gaze. Two assaults in one day? In a single ten minutes? What were these satanics doing to me?!

The Hitachiin energumens cackled wickedly, grips still tight around the other halfs' shoulder.

"Ah, I like this one, Kaoru!"

"She's quite the spirited one, ne?"

"More like wicked, I'd say."

"Aa, I see your point, Hikaru. A wicked vixen."

"Ee, and brash."

"Violent-"

"...bold-"

"...testy-"

"...hysterical-"

"Q-quiet!" I spewed, nearly slapping my hands over my own jaw not a moment after. Even if in self-defense, my manner was undebateably inexcuseable today. The duplicated faces were congruent, eerily displaying nothing at all. That moment of silence had settled my stomach, until the boy on the right parted his lips.

"...irritable," he resumed relentlessly, his brother following up instantly.

"...ill-mannered..."

I seethed, eyes tingling and nearly on the verge of rageous (yet shamed) tears. If my parents were to see me now - my brother! I felt like a bullied child being harassed in the school's secluded playground corner. Those delinquents! How dare them...

"Hikaru, Kaoru," Kyouya warned lightly, earning all attention. Both twins shrugged, expressions regretless. They hushed, however, Kyouya clearly being one holding the greatest respects in the brotherhood. The bespecled boy sighed, adjusting his lenses.

"Komori-san's father, Shigeo-san, is the current president and CEO of the world's largest photographic and imaging company, Fujifilm Holdings Corporation."

Another epoch of still silence passed. I was only aware of my breathing, slowly shallowing to a state of internal homeostasis. It seemed as if the group shared a collective blink, processing my status. I wondered, unappreciatively, why Kyouya had felt the need to share another's personal information so openly. It was overshadowed with gratitude concerning the silence it had produced, however.

This time it was the twin on the left who smirked first. "Fujifilm, huh? Komori Mikazuki-Karitei, was it? I suppose you're so rich you need two given names, ne?" He and his brother snickered, leering down on me like hawks taunting their prey.

I scowled, gathering my senses. "Karitei is just fine," I murmured coolly, narrowing my eyes towards the duplicated kouhai. They grinned instantly, well-cared for teeth glittering in the lighting.

"Hontou? We can really call you that, hime-sama?"

"Ne, you don't think it's too casual an addressment, hime-sama?"

My lips twitched, stomach whirling in helpless frustration. I was cornered. Utterly and hopelessly cornered. I was powerless to the situation. These two were going to kill me, I knew it. I hated this feeling of inferiority - the fear of not knowing what was coming next and being one step behind. I couldn't plan the next move. I couldn't think straight. They were purely diabolical. It was driving me to insanity. How could the other girls not feel this evil? Or had they all succumbed to it? Was that what turned their brains to mush? They had already been rotted away, taken over by the heinous whims of these people - these parasites. They fed off of the human spirit and used it to sustain their greedy lusts. This place was a nightmare - a lethal trap. I had to get away; I needed to leave! Why had I come in in the first place? I knew what trouble it would cause! Why couldn't I remember?!

"Komori-sempai? Are you alright?"

I flinched, jumping at the sound and snapping my head towards the offender. I flinched a second time at the sight. Dull plum sweater at least 3 sizes too large, wispy frizzed hair as lively as soot, thick retail-looking lenses: a horrid sight that seemed to fit in with this disaster.

Haruhi? Haruhi! That was it!

I leapt forward, startling the poor girl into a yelp as I clawed onto the arm of her sweater, nails digging into and poking directly through the second-hand fabric as I yanked on it forcefully. Haruhi was swept off her feet, stumbling into my side. I latched onto her in that position, anchoring her almost possesively, one hand still attached to her clothing and the other gripping the closest limb and pulling her slightly behind me, out of view from the males. I narrowed my eyes, daring any offenders to come forward. I had realized my mission: my purpose was back. I wouldn't lose this time.

"You two are already acquainted?" Kyouya raised a brow, whether at my sudden fierce turn or the question itself. He opened a black notebook that had been in his grasp, holding it in one arm and scribbling into it with the other. What a predictable habit.

"Yeah. Komori-sempai was assigned to show me around the school today," Haruhi grumbled, voice muffled because of our position. I could feel the sweat drop making it's was down her head on my shoulder, given our proximity. I inwardly squirmed, noting that a vigorous soak in the bath was needed as soon as I returned home. I prayed she didn't have flees, lice, or any other bodily bugs of the sort.

"Ah," Kyouya nodded to her response, marking his page one last time before the diary was snapped shut and briskly taken from our view. It seemed her words had confirmed everything for him, as expected.

"Sugoi! Komori-chan is a true hero, ne!? A beauty of wealth caring and watching after our despised lower person - an inspiring case of mother hen! What a charity, Komori-chan!! How inspiring," Tamaki cooed into the heavens, suddenly directly at Kyouya's side with clasped hands. I startled back, pulling Haruhi with me in turn. I thought he had already been taken care of? Wasn't he slumped in the corner, defeated? My fear -my loss of nerve- it must have rejuvenated and rekindled him. Now I had one more of them to break through...

"Two heroes?" a pre-pubescent voice awed. I cast a glance at Haninozuka Mitsukuni, watching as his sparkling eyes rivaled the sun.

Tamaki clapped his hands together, directing all attention. "As a gift for her selfless actions today, with sacrificing her precious time to lend a hand to this lesser being, I propose that Komori-chan is granted a free, personal visit to the Host Club!" he cheered, tone an echo of the gods themselves. Mitsukuni applauded feverishly, uplifted with his kouhai's suggestion. The twins burst out into another fit of laughter, both Kyouya and Morinozuka Takeshi holding blank faces. I, myself, dead panned, not seeming to find any possible reasoning behind this apparent "gift" the boy was offering. Was this a trick? They wanted me here longer - to break me down.

"So, Komori-chan," Tamaki purred, appearing to my left and almost effortlessly prying my grip off of Haruhi, wrapping his own arm around my shoulder and lifting me from her. "Take your pick. I, The Prince, am obviously not your type. But have no fear, that is why we have our own assortment of unique host to satisfy any preference or need! Now, what will it be? There's the Cool Type, the Little Devil Type, the..."

I tuned him out, transfixed on the demonic grins etched onto the Hitachiin's faces. I swore, just for a fleeting moment, their eyes burned scarlet. I shivered, unnoticed by the raving Tamaki. What an appropriate name - the Little Devils. My gaze flickered behind me, where Haruhi was standing awkwardly a few feet back. She looked fretful and confused, uncomfortably and understandably so. Unconsciously, I uttered her name under my breath, just loud enough to catch the main host's attention and halt his rant. I was dimly aware of him braking off, blinking down at me and following my line of vision behind our backs. I was also aware of his smirkish smile, only a moment before he had rushed from my side and flashed at Haruhi's. Now it was her he dragged forward as I watched in a trance, unable to move.

"So, what type do you fancy? Wild? Loli-shota? Or perhaps..." he gripped her chin, bringing their faces barely a breath apart. "Would you like to try me?"

I dropped my jaw in a silent gasp. Was he so daring to tread into those waters with a student he thought to be a male? The phrase "customer service" popped into my mind.

Her reaction was expected, the same I would have though any decently self-respecting woman to do.

"You misunderstood! I just...I was just looking for somewhere quiet!" she stumbled, stepping backwards frantically without taking her eyes from the advancing villain. "Please, excuse me..."

She threw herself back onto her heels, the movement halted with a dull thump. I couldn't see from this unaccommodating angle but it was clear enough to assume that she had bumped into something, the graceless fool. I squinted, the wavering of a colorful object swinging from side to side between Haruhi's shoulders. She pivoted around, flinging her arms forward just in time to miss the pottery piece as it plummeted to the floor, landing with a high-pitched shriek of breaking glass and exploding like a firework.

As oddly pleasant and fitting as the sound was, I knew this was a far cry from a good sign. With a shock of dread, I knew things were only about to get worse.

* * *

**(A/N) I'm sorry that basically nothing of importance has happened yet, but I'm really trying to get my OC's characterization straight, first and foremost! I understand that it's annoying, but once things take off, everything will move a lot more swift and smooth. Hang in there ;]**

**Please review, as always :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Let's Not Change the World**

Chapter Three

* * *

I had a vision of a desolate desert hell, air brutally hot and dry and not a relic in sight. The only landscape that differed from the endless layer of flat, blasé colored sand was a small, slightly darker indentation. The earth in the hole was deeply cracked, splitting through the ground in a way that only barren soil could manage after being sucked unimaginable devoid of all moisture. It had been a puddle once - the only sign of life a being could hope to get in such an area. Eventually, though, that too was erased by the evils of the natural way. This place was the embodiment of death.

A small, huddled creature squatted in the center of this, body shivering, terrified, and saneless. It was as if a rug had been ripped from right beneath it - if a rug could ever be the only possible catalyst in its survival. It would die now with no source of nourishment within a plausible distance. There was no way it could make it out. As if a jest from the underworld, two winged shadows circled the innocent animal, remaining high and observing. It was just like a vulture to wait around, seeming to mock the suffering soul and simply waiting for it to perish until it made its devouring move. It was half of the fun in the meal for them, to watch their prey squeal and beg. They were a vile, merciless, hideous creature that had no business existing. Why had the Lord created such a thing?

I blinked, my reality coming back into color. The bright shades of the room left me temporarily blinded, the morphing of the scene taking place through blurred vision. The morbid decline of land suddenly became an objet d'art in the form of a vase, expertly made and a treasure to any art collector. The cracks in that earth became the pieces of the plastered glass, shattered and scaping out across the tiled floor. Haruhi replaced the helpless yearling, expression horrified and unblinking. Hikaru and Kaoru flanked the scene, observing with scavenging demeanors and fingers to their pointed, beak-like chins.

"That ruin vase was supposed to be featured for the school auction," one of them commented, not sounding all too concerned. I gripped both of my arms close to my body, fighting off shivers at the blandly liquidized tones.

"That's not good. What will we do? We were going to start the bidding at eight million yen..."

Inwardly, my inner mind shopper began whirling. It was a nice vase, but not _that _nice. It was rather ambitious of them to start the bidding so high. But than again, look at who was offering it. The league of handsome men in the Ouran High School Host Club could sell it for far more, I was willing to bet. Delusional women would pay twice as much simply because of the hands that had touched it.

I wouldn't pay a cent over six and a half million, personally.

"Anou...I...I'll pay it...ba..." Haruhi struggled with her words, knowing they were meaningless. How could someone who looked like her and came from where she had come from possibly dream of affording such a thing?

"Can you? You can't even buy your own uniform..." a miscreant said, he and his other half now standing side-by-side in a perfect double vision. His brother picked up the thought with his own input of, "...what with that lame cloth you're wearing."

The freshman female fumbled at their attacking words, not at enough esteem to fight back against the truth. I bit down on my own teeth, thinking things over. Haruhi was truly a shriveled, pitiful thing on the brink of insanity. These predators were just going to keep picking away at her until there was nothing left of the badly dressed and barbarically behaved - but intellectual - girl. Wasn't this what I hadn't wanted to take place? I knew then that my original take on that vision was wrong; the vase wasn't that indent in the dirt. _I _was the indent in the dirt. The last hope for the helpless one. The wise, accountable and knowing savior. That was my part in the hallucination. I wouldn't be a wrinkled patch of dried mud. I would be an entire lake. Haruhi wouldn't starve while I was around.

"Of course Haruhi can't pay it," I sighed, masking the cradling of my arms with the act of crossing them beneath my chest. I closed my eyes lightly, aware of the many pairs of eyes I had attracted. "What else do you expect of a thrift-wearing commoner?"

The room shared a collective blink, some more blank then others. I noted how Haruhi's shined with the slightest trace of offence and how Tamaki looked like a dumbfounded lamb. Kyouya twitched his neck, the light catching his glasses and reflecting a shield before his eyes. "So then what are you proposing, Komori-san?"

I sighed, only using a moment to verify my words. "I'm paying for the vase."

I couldn't see why some of them looked so flabbergasted. It wasn't as if it was phenomenal: the pottery wasn't outrageously overpriced. It was a simple dent in my account, something barely worth notice. Inconvenient, yes, but not mortifying.

"I'm afraid that's out of the question," Kyouya said apathetically, physically adjusting his frameless lenses as he angled his head downward. I lowered my brows, only dimly aware that our exchange was now the sole source of interaction in the chamber.

"And why not?"

"Host club regulations would not allow it," he replied shortly, flipping open his reference notebook. I snorted at the thought of this type of dealing having a list of rules. It was like the mafia showing concern for federal laws. "In lamented terms, this simply means that only the offender in question is permitted to receive punishment. No one else, no matter the circumstance, can step in and offer a consolidation in their place." He closed the binder, bringing his gaze up in finalization. I tapped my foot, growing fed up with the air of superiority surrounding his words.

"Technically," I began, only half in attempt to help out Haruhi and the other simply wanting nothing more than to bring the smirking Ootori down, "...we are not in Host Club hours. Since the Host Club is not open and in business, these 'regulations' are null and void," I reminded him, not daring to break eye contact. His confidence didn't splinter.

"But you are, however, in the company of the Host Club and in our personal headquarters," he countered. "But even that fact in itself is moot. The vase that was destroyed was Host Club property and with the entire establishment as a witness there is no denying the act. Even if in off hours, a crime is still a crime. I'm sure you've heard of the phrase, Komori-san, 'You break it, you buy it.'"

My expression flattened, finding no room for negotiation. Kyouya's smug features were enough to pull a grimace onto my face.

"I get it," I insisted, wanting to duct tape his jaw shut. His thin lips twitched up in a smirk momentarily before he faced his king.

"What would you do, Tamaki?" Kyouya's smooth tone floated, his torso reaching down to hold a shard of the pale blue art between his fingers. My gaze fluttered to the blond, curious to find him lounged back in his thrown-like, cushioned chair.

"Have you hear this proverb, Fujioka-kun?" he sighed heavenly, lids angelically closed and fist leaned statue-esquely against a silken cheek. He swung his leg across the other, further complimenting the elite stance. "'When in Rome, do as the Romans do.'" His intimidating mauve orbs opened, a finger snapping towards Haruhi in her fretful state. "If you don't have money, pay with your body!!"

I gaped, managing to hold onto some reservation. Had he figured out she was a girl? Could he possibly be hinting toward...prostitution!? What sort of suggestion was that!? Never mind the fault of the totaled vase - this was completely illegal and immoral!! What in the name of...what was he thinking!? I would simply have him arrested for such an idea!! Sexual harassment!

"From now on, starting today...you are the Host Club's DOG!!"

I blinked, my brilliant plan of exploit crumbling to ruins. He wasn't some type of underground pimp-type after all. But was a servant really so much better? To be a mistress or a maid? That poor girl, I wasn't sure which was worse!! A _dog_...how degrading. But still, I supposed I had to admit myself it was a commoner's place. Any one else and it would have been a scandal, but for this rugged student I found my sympathy at a minimum. I wondered why the chairman hadn't come up with an accommodation like this to begin with in return for Ouran's incomparable education - or perhaps an authentic uniform.

I cast a perfunctory glance at the girl in question, tilting my head at her gray, disheveled and petrified doll-like form. I stepped forward, coming to a rest no more than three feet away from her. Her state looked strangely supernatural - possibly contagious. Her mouth was wide and agape, head locked at an odd angle and eyes frozen wide. I supposed this was the result of becoming tangled in the Host Club's web. I had been prudent enough to dig myself out before this could have happened to me. I was no commoner - I had known and done better.

I barely even shuddered as the rest of the young men came to my side, the group of us encompassing a semi-circle around the newest Ouran student. Our stares were similarly questioning, all nonchalantly so. The twins across from me leaned forward, narrowing their blank, beady eyes. Tamaki's face fell towards his 'dog', waving a hand dully before her face without a reaction. Mitsukuni inched closer, poking his kouhai's shoulder and watching as she fell over to the side. We each regarded this expressionlessly, Haruhi's corpse-looking body lying on her side, sprawled along the floor. A simultaneous glum passed over our heads, chins tilting down dubiously.

"...Ne, what now, tono?" one of the Hitachiin's murmured in an insipid tone, nudging Haruhi lightly with his toe and looking toward his leader with a frown. The older male merely shrugged, eyes still captivated by the girl taking up space on his marble flooring. Kyouya sighed from my left, the sound seeming urbane while leaving his lips.

"Karitei-san," he said, turning his head. I tweaked a brow, moving my eyes up and over in return. "Fujioka-kun is under your supervision for the day, correct?"

I nodded, already preparing for the oncoming assault.

"We'll be sure to let this information pass the chairman only after your leadership over Fujioka-kun has ended. You wouldn't want him to know that Haurhi was harmed while you were in charge of her safety, would you?"

I reeled, ready to spit out a counter before faltering as my mind processed his words. They were going to cover for me?

"W-what?"

Only the very tips of the youngest Ootori's lips twitched upward as he lowered his head, bringing out his trusted notebook and writing in some unknown data.

"Of course, our assistance in keeping this incident off of your record isn't as simple as charity. Our help comes at a price..."

I knew at that moment, from those features, that my soul had been handed over and sold to the devil.

* * *

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

* * *

My leg jiggled anxiously, eyes switching back and forth with flickering motions between the epic poem _Beowulf_ and the clock. In just ten Odysseus minutes class would be over and students dismissed back to their post-education lives.

My life would end with that final tone of the school bell.

Before we had parted, Kyouya had left me with the instructions to report back to the Host Club Headquarters at the end of the school day where we would then discuss the arrangement he had planned in exchange for their secrecy. I had hesitantly agreed on the spot, thinking of no alternatives and too struck with dread to fight it. After an entire afternoon of brooding, however, my view had changed.

What if I simply went my normal route? Avoided the music hall completely as I had every other day of my high school career?

I didn't know and I didn't care. That was my plan and I was resolute. The phrase "ignorance is bliss" described my course with perfection. I could only hope the dweebus males became so caught up in their devastating good-looks and the women throwing themselves before them that the insignificance of my promise would be overshadowed.

I snorted silently, grimly, as I lowered my head in the pretext of reading the heroic tale before me. Ootori Kyouya forgetting something? It wasn't a possibility.

The deep ringing sound snapped me to physical awareness, scraping chairs and dainty squeals of elation an alarm of the day's educational end. Even more important, I noted, a closer minute towards the third music room's welcome. Females thought in the same mind, clutching each other's hands and giggling in glee. I eyed them from the corner of my eyes, the only person in the room still seated. I stared with animosity, disgraced by such acts. Did they have no self-respect? No pride for their womanly rights? I supposed it would make no difference if those types were to have lived a hundred years ago. Were they so willing to throw away the very freedom women fought for? Dawled-up putty at the hands of an ideal man, ready and willing to obey their every whim without question or voice. It might as well be the year 1706.

"I hope you don't remain seated in this classroom for the rest of the night, Komori-chan. I wouldn't want you to miss our meeting."

I stiffened, spine bristling at the even tone. It was endearingly level on the outside but laced with a malice that only I seemed capable of picking up on. I supposed it was just the way that Kyouya and I worked - always to be the worst of enemies that knew each other's every tick better than any of the rest.

I listened, not altering my position in the slightest as his lights steps sauntered away. I knew of his departure from the room as soon as hushed whispers broke out, far too exaggeratedly frantic for such a simple act.

"What did he say? Did you hear him right!?"

"He spoke to her so familiarly! Do they know each other!? He even called her 'chan'!"

"And he said they were meeting each other later on tonight! What is going on between those two!? You don't think... Could they possibly be secret lovers!?"

I winced, jaw set and twitching as they released a collaborated wail of pure woe. Who could have ever thought the female gender could have ever sunk so low? Susan B. Anthony would be appalled.

It was all clear now - Otoori Kyouya was most definitely after my blood. He wanted me perished so he could stand at my grave and smirk that torturous, smug smirk of his. The devil.

I grunted angrily, not caring for displaying proper manners as I flung myself from the desk, grasping my books up and swinging around towards the door. I didn't pause at the started gasps, keeping my direction firm in mind. I exited the classroom, turning right and stomping with purpose.

The school's exit was in sight within seconds. I passed through the door without a second thought of opposition. I was going home and standing up the great Otoori. I hoped he would aimlessly await me until his dear customer's came, were he would then proceed to wallow in the defeat of not wooing every woman crossing his path. I would be the magnificent successor of that feat. The blinding sunlight as I passed through the doors was like a blue ribbon.

Until my movement was intercepted, that is.

The hands grasping my shoulders were remarkably large, though gentle with only an underlining threat of firmness. Although they weren't putting a large amount of pressure on me at the moment, it would be an effortless alteration.

"Wha..." I gasped, thoroughly startled by the attack. I craned my neck backwards, squinting harshly against the rays of ultraviolet light. Through a speckled gaze, I blinked away the purple splotches until the vague outline of a man could be seen, clearing just enough for me to make out blank doe eyes.

"Morinozuka-sempai..." I breathed, all the more surprised with the villain. He blinked in his form of a greeting. My jaw slacked, dropping entirely as my knees were suddenly forced together.

"Kari-chan!!" Mitsukuni sang, his arms wrapping themselves like ropes around my legs. I blinked frightfully, looking down on his glistening blond hair. The miniature senior tilted his face upward, chin resting on my thigh as he flashed a brilliant grin. The proximity would have earned any other eighteen-year-old boy a good slap to the face, but I had to remind myself that this boy in particular was ten years older than he appeared. I wouldn't dream of assaulting a child, especially one with such care-free features and shining amber eyes. I was still baffled by the fact that the boy -man, technically- was a full year my senior.

"Haninozuka-sempai," I squawked slightly, finding our abrupt positioning highly inappropriate. Takashi seemed aware of my discomfort, letting go of my upper arms and moving forward to lightly pry his cousin from my limbs. The golden-eyed boy barely noticed, arms dropping to his sides as he stared up with watery eyes.

"Ne, Kari-chan! Why are you calling me that? We're buddies, aren't we? You should call me Honey! Or... do you not like me...?"

My eyes widened at the tears filling the young man's orbs, genuinely terrified of the reaction. I had barely spoken to the upper classman at all! Why on earth would he be so upset over such a trivial matter; so impressioned that we were close enough for caring terms? The idea confused me to no end. Half of me (the practical side, I figured) wanted to just walk away and feign obliviosity to the scene. However, the more humanized half won out, motherly instincts taking over.

"Calm down...Honey-sempai," I ventured awkwardly, reaching out a hand with far-flowing hesitation to pat the locks atop his head. He seemed to find my reconciliation acceptable, face brightening considerably as I wrenched my arm back.

He sighed dreamily, smiling up with the purity of an infant. It was nearly suffocating. Then his appearance took on another twist, turning into that of light reprimanding.

"Kari-chan, did you forget about our meeting? Kyou-chan said that me and Takashi should come out here and make sure you didn't leave, so I guess he knew that you would forget!"

I choked lightly, soon after frowning at the realization. So Kyouya was having the two capture me, was he? Kidnapping?

"I'm afraid that I didn't forget," I professed, using a melancholy pitch of indifference. Mitsukuni tweaked his brow, looking befuddled.

"Ne? Ne, Kari-chan, you weren't trying to sneak away from us, were you?"

My muscles tightened. "Not at all. I've only just remembered of an important appointment outside of school this afternoon that Ootori-san's arrangement interferes with. We'll just have to...reschedule."

I forced that last sentence only as a means of authenticity, hoping that the promise of rearranging was enough proof for them to release me. I was fairly positive that it would have worked as well, had it not been for Takashi's comprehension. Almost as soon as I had spoken he was back behind me, once again gripping my shoulders. Mitsukuni pouted.

"Kyou-chan said you might say something like that. He told us to bring you back to the Host Club no matter what. Even if we had to use force."

I made a noise of mild shock, blind-sided by the strategic command. He was always three steps ahead. Clearly my plan was insufficient. There would need to be a great deal more careful deliberating before facing off with such a specimen as Kyouya.

"So please don't try to run away!! We don't want to have to use force with you, Kari-chan! Ne, Takashi?"

I hardly expected an answer, so the affirmative grunt of 'aa' from directly above me was slightly unnerving. I realized then that it was the first word I had ever heard the boy utter. The deep, blunt melody of his voice was just as I would have imagined it to be.

A tremble ran up my spine. I had to end this now; stop it before I was taken in too far. This was already too much - Kyouya had to be out of his mind for such desperate and compulsive measures. What was he thinking, going through all of this? I could kill him!

In my mind, I had taken on the essence of an enraged lioness, provoked and more than prepared to unleash violent action. How dare he corner me like this - as if I were nothing more than an inferior play-thing of his sadistic intellect. I kept my facade poised, only a tinge of warning in my expression.

"Morinozuka-sempai, please release me now."

The timid giant didn't flinch.

"Morinozuka-sempai, please let me go," I advised, tone like stone. Mitsukuni whined, clutching his pink stuffed rabbit firmly.

"Ne, Kari-chan! Don't be so mean! Kyou-chan told us to bring you back with us! Once you're done playing with him you can come with me and eat cake! I'll share with you! Won't you be nice and come with us?"

I scowled, looking down at the boy with a hard gaze. I was glad that such child-like innocence was hardly a blockade for my sympathy.

"I will not," an imperious voice stated from my vocals. "I've already explained the appointment outside of school that leaves me no spare time for such frolicking."

Mitsukuni's pygmy shoulders shook, a trail of water flowing down each cheek.

"B-but Kyou-chan said he made sure your afternoon was free! He even called your house to tell the maids that you'll be staying here late and not to send the driver!"

His confession of Kyouya's actions lit a fire, the heat cursing through my veins. This was war.

"Why would you lie, Kari-chan!? You really don't want to eat cake with me!?"

And he balled, wheezing like a starved infant and falling the short distance to his knees. It happened then, just as I had predicted - the warmth containing my arms vanished, the flash of a dark shape blocking out all sunlight before Takashi was crouched over his younger kin, leaving me a free felon. I took my chance and ran like I had never run before towards the gated exit.

Thinking back as I pumped my legs furiously, I doubted that I ever had actually run before. Why on earth would I have ever done such a thing? What could have called for the requirement? I almost regretted the lack of experience. I was hardly what any sane mind would call athletically fit, presumably making this attempt look comparable to a homeless man joining the queen for lunch. Only adding to the dismal act, I wouldn't imagine that my heeled footwear to be appropriate or practical. I journeyed across the grass lawn rapidly, thinking it to be a clever move to cut the travel time considerably. I, however, clearly misjudged the inference and let out a strangled yelp as my soles became wedged into the dirt, sending my body tumbling to the ground like a sack of living, breathing potatoes.

I froze, whimpering, wishing nothing more than to disappear at that very moment and find myself transported into a heated bubble bath. Horrified gasps and disbelieving giggles surrounded me on all sides, onlooking classmates clearly witnesses to the tumble. They might as well have thrown bricks to add to this shameless display. I wanted to die. Never even mind what Kyouya would have done with me - this current situation had probably been in his mind all along. I hardly doubted the fiend to prognosticate such a thing.

The Lord seemed to take pity, sending his condolences in the form of a vast shadow. Takeshi lifted me softly, pulling me to my feet cautiously and caringly. I trembled, the shock of the impact still residual in my bones. I left my gaze firmly grounded, not at all willing to meet any of the stares directed towards my surely bruise and dirtied form. Maybe the Gods hadn't taken pity at all - they were on Kyouya's side, mocking right along.

"Are you alright?"

I flinched, not even meeting the tall senior's eyes in shame. I barely took notice of the magnitude of his laconic speech. I only shook my head, eager to run away and disappear from the open arena.

"Yes, fine."

He grunted lightly in understanding, slipping his fingers over my elbow and leading me along towards the school's entrance again. I complied, feeling strangely obedient after the accident. I had no right to speak of the twits chasing so feverishly after men - I was just a horrid while running away from them.

"Ne, Kari-chan, are you coming with us now?" Mitsukuni asked, having been sitting on a stone bench caressing his stuffed toy as we approached. Obviously he had missed the last five minutes completely, lost in his own world and recovering fully from the emotional turmoil I had put him through. My teeth chattered, barely thinking as I nodded. His aura blinded, brightening all of the earth. He leapt from his perch, springing into the air with a joyful cry before grasping my hand.

"Yatta! Let's go, Kari-chan!!"

I was being dragged within the next moment, feet trailing along numbly. I was comatosed, mind slowly reawakening from the petrified state. I was going to the Host Club without fight? What was wrong with me? Falling down shouldn't have been enough to stop me. Social embarrassment...well, I didn't take to any of those students anyway. My own sense was far more vital than any of those reasons. I couldn't allow this. I wouldn't stand for it!

"No," I uttered, heels digging into the marbled flooring in protest. The only reaction this accomplished was a trail of squeaking, rubber friction. Takashi moseyed along by my side, raising a brow. Mitsukuni was clearly far stronger than his appearance let on to over power me single handily. "No!"

My plea came too late, the words leaving my mouth just as the doors to the Third Music room were pushed open. Scarlet rose petals fell, clearing to reveal a bespectacled brunet teen standing in the center of the room, triumphant. Kyouya smirked that torturous, smug smirk of his, knowing he had won.

* * *

**(A/N) Ehe, sorry there was a bit of a wait on this one :) School sort of backs me up, though. And by "school", I mean ignoring my homework to read fanfictions as an excuse from educational stress and lazily neglect my own writing because I'm too tired from waking up at 6 a.m., spending useless days in a death-trap of a building with people I mostly hate, and not going to bed until after midnight most of the time...**

**Don't look at me like that! You guys do it, too :P I have no life, really.**

**I also want to make a little apology for the last chapter, which I realize was suffocatingly over-done with snootiness. I'm sorry :( I should have figured when I was reading it over in revising and gave up half way through because I was bored that it wouldn't be your favorite, either. But no harm done! Thanks to the people who reviewed honestly ;D I'll make sure not to get SO into the prissy smarty-pants character from now on! Ehe. Thanks to reviewers and keep them coming, if you please! I'm probably going to get punched tomorrow for posting this rather than one of my other stories (it's a HUGE drawback to go to school with some of your fans/friends - they can be pretty brutal if you don't update regularly or if they're not happy with what's going on in the plot...physical expression is much worse than written) so enjoy this! I know not much real action happened - only a filler, pretty much. But from where I left off, the next chapter will really start up the plot line and get things moving along a lot faster! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Let's Not Change the World**

Chapter Four

* * *

Hell.

It was a place I had never imagined my soul would end up. Death was supposed to bring me a sanctioned afterlife of freedom amongst the clouds, rolling down rainbows and galloping unicorns. This had to be a mistake.

I wasn't dead yet. How could they have sent me to Hell if I hadn't died? Surely I wasn't such an abomination to deserve this, was I?

I sunk further into the exquisite velvet of the Host Club's couch, attempting to put as much distance as humanly possible between myself and the demon handing out my sentence. The bespectacled ghoul wore a mask of indifference, my suffering nothing more than a speck of dust on his eye wear. He sighed lightly, closing his trusted binder and crossing his legs with casual nonchalance.

I could just feel the smug pride radiating beneath such a faux demeanor.

"So it seems we've made an agreement then, Komori-chan?"

My spine went rigged, seeming to make it's own independent attempt at morphing as one with the ornate cushion to my back. No, that was a bad choice - it would mean I would be stuck here even longer until the décor was altered and upgraded. I only had to do this one thing, just one afternoon of devotion and I would never again be forced to speak with this man. Not another second would be spent within the confinements of the Host Club and its rabid members. I would be free to carry on as life had hitherto led me, without the interference of these beasts...

When I thought of it that way, a single week-end afternoon seemed so dispensable.

I gulped, praying the motion wasn't too conspicuous. I didn't miss the twitch of Kyouya's thin lips, making it certain he had caught on to my internal misery. My hands clenched lightly in my lap, eyes darting around all corners of the room as a means of distraction. Was there really no other choice? This was what the hand fate had dealt me?

It was final. I was forced to settle. With a heavy exhale, my agreement was professed unwillingly. Words were not enough, of course, and a document was thrust before my face within the next moment. I blinked, taking hold of the sheet cautiously and jumping back as a pen was next to appear before my eyes in a flash. Grasping both, I read over the manual, more hesitant that I had ever been to take in the words on a sheet of paper.

_'I, _(please sign full name here)_, hereby agree to the terms of Ootori Kyouya-san, Vice-President of the Ouran High School Host Club, and_ _am prepared to carry out the following arrangement prepared by him, whether it be against better judgment or on my own free will.'_

My brow twitch at the very idea of this officiating signature. He had to be joking, of course. I shot a glare upwards, taking in Kyouya's shameless smirk.

"Is something the matter, Komori-chan? Do you not understand the concept of this agreement?"

I doubled the measure of loathing in my glance, bringing my eyes back to finish the instructions without granting him an answer. Who did this big-shot think he was? Making me sign an _contract_, the nerve! It was like handing my soul over, signing my name to on the dotted line to the underworld. Honestly, what was this? _'Whether against better judgement or on my own free will'_? Would there ever be a person to be in this same position without threats and framing? I felt like a delinquent filling out a detention slip. He couldn't seriously expect me to do such a thing.

The next half of the note was hand-written, Kyouya's elegant lettering recognizable easily. He must have specialized the punishment with each unsuspecting felon, the power-hungry monster.

_'On the next coming Sunday, you will escort the Host Club gentlemen to your own home for a personal visit. There, you will assist the Club members and allow them full use of the Komori family's extensive photography studio and equipment to provide an updated Seasonal Calender. You will be the Host Club's personal assistant for this day until the task has been completed and will be expecting to act nothing less than civil, as any catering worker should. You body and expertise are at the will of the Host Club for the duration of this time.' _

I squinted, scrutinizing every inch of the page for signs of fine print. There had to be some kind of catch. I admit, grudgingly, that I was getting off fairly easily - I had expected far worse. The most disagreeable aspect was that I had been dubbed as a 'catering worker' and would be a host of my own for the day, these very boys serving as my costumers. Though it wasn't at all (in an infinity of light years) how I would like to enjoy my day off, I was optimistic of my survival. Allowing the Host Club access to my family's photography studio wasn't such a tedious load. It would be my own turf, giving me the advantage even when under 'orders' and a house full of other servants on my side of the spectrum. Whether I was in their charge or not, my maids were still obligated to respond to my whim over any of those boys'. I could consider it practise for my future days, when these sort of business meetings would be required in my schedule. I was positive I could find some type of loop hole concerning their usual antics in these 'calendars' by the weekend.

Nodding decidedly and giving one last scan to check for minescule rules attempted to be hidden, I readied the pen and left my proof of complience. The compact was branded.

No sooner had I 'dotted the i's and crossed the t's', so to speak, was the starch white document snatched from my hands abruptly and tucked safely away into Kyouya's tidy little planner. His accomplished, curling smile was not a hair's width short of ominous: the Grinch had just stolen Christmas.

What had I just done?

"Good. I'm glad things have worked out so well. I was hoping that this transaction wouldn't take long, so your cooperation managed to make swift pace. You were sure to read the back page before signing, weren't you?"

And just like that, my resolve shattered like the very vase that had landed me here. Back? There was a back side? What kind of person makes a two page long terms of condition!? Shouldn't the line for my name have been _following_ all of that information? What the hell did I just agree to?! It could have said anything! Everything!

"Oh, it appears you didn't? That's too bad," he sighed empathetically, standing to his feet and adjusting his oval lenses. I swore I could clearly hear the snickering laughter in the back of his throat. "Its regrettable, but nothing that can be fixed. You'll just have to see what the full extent of our bargaining terms were as the time comes."

I choked, eyes popping. My heart gave out, blood stumbling in its trail and leaving no energy to be transported to the brain. Function lost, life taken.

I had slummed over the my side, falling into the courtly cushions and letting the black-out veil over.

* * *

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

* * *

"It's so barbarous! God sometimes creates humans with perfect bodies and contents - not that I mean to brag about it! And think about this, Haruhi. Why do you think they put works of art in museums? Because beauty should be shared with the world, and those born beautiful should promoted other beautiful things! That's why I started this club in the first place; I did it for those who are _starved _for beauty! For those working day and night _pursuing_ beauty!!"

Hell it was. Most definitely. It was logical now. I could very well accept that I had passed on. Hell was my punishment for the lack of prerequisite judgment. Autographing a deal handed to me by the youngest Ootori? I deserved the eternal flames. It had been so flagrant; I was so foolish.

"...Here's a tip: when setting down your glass, extend your pinky finger as a cushion and that way when you set it down, you won't be making a lot of noise!"

As if living in such a place with his company wasn't bad enough, Suou Tamaki had followed me beyond the grave as well? He would forever be prancing in his heterosexual way and preaching the proper etiquette of society. I already knew everything he had to teach me; why was he bothering?

No, that was just it. This was significantly magnifying the unpleasant aura of this place. It was part of the heinous punishment for my stupidity.

"A good man should not make ungraceful sounds! And I love looking at my reflection in the glass..."

Yes. Surely this was, without a doubt, the purgatory.

I grunted lightly, prying my eyes open and taking in my surroundings. Rather than volcanic craters and hideous creatures, this Hades was an exact replica of Earth's Ouran High School Host Club Head Quarters. It was only sensible if you thought about it: a worse limbo was unfathomable in my mind.

I sat up laboriously, my body not welcoming the effort in leaving such a desirable resting place. If I had to give them credit for one thing, those boys had excellent taste in interior design. My eyes fluttered with a flurry of blinks, lulling the sleep from my eyes and gazing around. Judging from the distant chatter of voices, this was one of the Host Club's backrooms. Eerily familiar, the stench of misery was still hanging in the air with a dark aura...

I flinched at the memory, abruptly pulling myself to my feet. I had to escape - there was no other choice. Perhaps I could convince my father to send me off on an early vacation to visit the company's branch in America...

I nodded affirmatively. There was a decent chance: my grades and standings were well enough. I could continue classroom courses on-line. It was plausible.

I creeped out of the open doorway, tip-toeing along the marble flooring as the voices beyond the upcoming threshold grew more distinct.

"...a look for the lower level is always effective. Remember how useful a side-ways glance can be."

I held back a tut, flattening my spine along the wall just to the side of the frame work. Lowering my arms for safe keeping, palms pressed at level to my hips, I leaned over the polished stone arch way, hoping to poke my head in and discretely view the scene. Who was he coaching this time? Could I have a chance at slipping past?

"Ah, Sou ka!" Haruhi pounded her fist as if having an epiphany. I raised a brow, surprised at her enthusiasm. I hadn't taken the girl for the type to rationalize Tamaki's drabbling. Even still, I had to acknowledge her apparent dignity given the two's proximity. Had it been any other young female, they would have been faint at the positioning. "Obnoxious! It's annoying."

Tamaki's cheer crashed, and I was delighted to bear witness.

Just as had happened only hours before, the blonde's visage paled and blued, his expression reflecting some sort of severe indigestion. His lean form floated backwards, crumbling into a fetal position and cursed with a doleful cloud of despair.

I smiled honestly for the first time that day. Tamaki was distracted with his own personal dejection and my escape had been provided perfectly. Fate had granted me one single ray of sunshine in this darkened day.

I smirked, bounding into the open with a momentary skip as I sauntered along, all too innocently, through the hall. I could see them clearly enough, though I was sure my advance would go unnoticed at this distance (still a room's length apart). Slipping by shouldn't be too much trouble if Tamaki remained in such a state. I narrowed my eyes calmly, feigning a shut-eyed stroll as I neared the two. Both remained blessedly oblivious of my upcoming. I could chance a pass-by; I would do it.

My plan was interrupted, if not foiled, by the arrival of those vile twins. They cackled like cat's coughing fur balls (or maybe that was simply my perception), placing their hands to Haruhi's hair part. I grimaced angrily, ducking back behind another well-placed wall. They were the worst, far surpassing the other club members with their knavery. I hadn't the slightest clue as to how Haruhi could remain so unperturbed with the assault.

"I'm sorry! I was a bit touched...Excuse me, Suou-senpai- "

"**King**."

The group (I include myself, Haruhi, and the mutant clones in the category) shared a falter. Tamaki's being remained stoically unruffled, words uncharacteristically flat. "I go by that here. Otherwise, I don't know you."

I scowled, sucking in my lips at his atrocity. He almost seemed three times as pompous when cold and depressed.

"Eh, _king_..."

A cool zephyr whistled, picking up a whirlwind of residual rose petals through the air surrounding Tamaki's hunch. I squinted, wondering how such a feat was possible inside a well-built structure. Hidden windows? Concealed trap-door? No, what was I thinking?It was something as explainable as ventilation.

I frowned, brows ceasing. They were rubbing off on me - I was going insane.

"Sou ka, sou ka!" Tamaki melodized, dancing to his feet and holding a fist to his chin. I quirked, finding his abrupt euphoria unnaturally sudden. "Then let me teach you more techniques!"

I remembered watching the Disney animated version of the story 'Cinderella' as a child. Tamaki, hand outstretched and open for invitation, glittered in the very same majestic way as the peasant girl's overweight fairy god-mother. I wondered vaguely how he had come to the conclusion that he should share more of his beliefs. Had anyone expressed any interest at all?

Inching closer, I took care in remaining soundless. My toes pointed, weight shifting with the expertise of a ballerina. I took that occupied moment to dash into a parallel niche, diving up from my landing with even footing to swirl and lock eyes on the scene once more. I could almost hear the obligatory spy music orchestrated in the background.

I was definitely having a bit too much fun with this. Or was enthusiasm the best-fitting adjective? Perhaps the exciting angst was just welcome in it's rarity.

Haruhi and the twins, all three dully flabbergasted in response, stared on blankly.

"...He recovered fast."

I nodded to Haruhi's observation agreeably, a moot act while attempting to be stealthy hiding just beyond sight.

"Tono-" one of the twins began, cut off by Tamaki's insistent, "Call me King!"

...What was the difference?

The first twin paused, shutting his mouth and letting a pointed second pass before he continued with the thought.

"Even if you taught him the basics of being a host..."

His brother picked up on the meaning, furthering, "...in this case, he doesn't even pass the most basic visual criteria, ne?"

The boy stepped drawlingly forward, turning on his heel to face Haruhi and grasp the girl's glasses. My fingers clenched into the door frame, a questionable emotion stirring in the pit of my gut. It was only appropriate to feel maternally towards the only other female with enough sense as to refuse atavism in the company of the Host Club, was it not? The endearing flutter was nothing more than basic instinct.

"His eyes will appear even smaller-"

"Ah, chotto! I lost my contacts on the first day of school..."

Somewhere in the midst of her narration, the entire population of male members in the room where gathered around the impoverished freshman, expressions hidden as their backs were kept to my face. I nearly growled, not only from the lack of information on this social gathering, but also the now seemingly impossible task of slipping past unnoticed. What happened to the obligations towards female customers? Why was the hobnob suddenly so devoted to _**this**_ entrance way?!

A miniature earthquake jostled the room as Tamaki bulldozed forward, coming to a halt face-to-face with Haruhi; back-to-face with me. His shoulders hunched stiffly, imperious air commanding alerted attention.

And a snap of his fingers was all it took.

"Hikaru, Kaoru!"

"Got it!" the two chimed, saluting and sallying forward to grasp both of Haruhi'swrists. Mere seconds later and the only thing left of the three youngest students was a trail of smoke, the female's wail echoing from behind an adjacent door.

"Kyouya, call my hairstylist and tailor! Mori-senpai, go to the eye doctor and get him some contact lenses!"

Mitsukuni leaped before his master eagerly. "What about me, Tama-chan!?"

"Honey-senpai..."

"Yes, sir!"

"...You and Komori-chan can go have cake."

Yes, it was perfect. The licentious brothers and Haruhi locked away, Kyouya occupied with his phone calls, Morinozuka carrying out Tamaki's biddings, and Mitsukuni and Komori eating cake. My chance had presented itself once again, wide and open.

"Komori-san," Kyouya sighed, his tone suggesting limited patience. "If you'd please step out from behind that wall, we can all proceed with the tasks at hand; Honey-senpai could use the company and supervision. You do realize that we've been well aware of your presence for some time now?"

Every minute joint and muscle in my body bristled. Suddenly, it was as if the visualization of fluorescently flashing arrows and spotlights had become a reality, each pinpointed on my dumbstruck form. Like an animal caught in the path of headlights, I was trapped in a vertical comatose. How long had they known? Which of my movements had given me away? I thought I had been so sly!

"Kari-chan?" the eldest Haninozuka uttered. His honey-suckled gaze flickered between Tamaki and I (I, myself, still erected in some type of petrified, up-right slumber.) His settling focus melted my limbs, the warmth of his smile radiating even from across the room. "We can still have cake together after all, ne?!"

I shuddered, genuinely blank-minded at this stage. More of a means to do something -anything- other than gawk idiotically, I shuffled along the marbled floor, allowing the small teen to grasp my wrist without objection and be led off to an intimate table set-up.

Ushered into a chair and handed a cup of tea, I took it all in mindlessly. Kyouya had gone back to his telephoning business and Tamaki was taking over any residual customers that had been left behind, adding each female to his own group of admirers and performing with extra enthusiasm to patch over any cracks of discontentment. All other members (beside the senior seated across from me) were no where to be found.

Following along with their lead obediently, and I still didn't have the slightest clue as to what was going on.

"Ne, Kari-chan, what type of cake do you want?"

I flinched, looking down between the two plates. A vanilla slice, piled high with succulent cream and adorned with fresh fruits, took up nearly the entire length of one dish. The other choice (a rich, layered chocolate) visually outweighed the other option in calorie count. Had it been any other place and time, the decision would have been laughable (I highly doubted consuming the sweets willingly would be a factor in the first place.)

However, for those times when I was left with no negotiation, I had always been taught that light was always the way to go. The choice that would be easiest to digest and least harmfult o the waistline was gold in the women's book of codes. Handed down from female to female, it was but one of the great lessons my mother had taught me.

Here and now, screw it. I had sinned, stepped inot this room first and foremost after an internal pact to stay far away. I was cursed as it was. There was no sanction.

I claimed the German Cocoa for myself.

Casting an observing glance towards my host (no - I shouldn't be calling him that! I wasn't a 'customer.' I hadn't paid for his dining company: it was an invitation!) I didn't miss the momentary shadow pass over the boy, lips twitching downward before snapping back with recovering perk just as quickly.

Was he unhappy with my choice? Should I have been more polite and declined until he had insisted? [1]

Before I could think to inquire on it, the older male had already drug his gargantuan pastry across the table and wasted no time in digging in. I perched on the edge of my seat awkwardly, watching his famished inhale.

Was I supposed to simply shut up and eat...in a manner like that?

In all honesty, reaching out for a fork had never felt so pressured. It became almost comparable to shifting through liquid mercury rather than oxygen to extent my arm. The cutlery felt odd in my grasp, metal cold to the touch and oddly uninviting. It was strange that even such a thing as silverware could hold even a hint of animosity, but I quickly figured it was nothing more than my imagination.

Scraping across the delectable dessert, I brought the chocolate concoction past my lips - and promptly snarled. It was so sickeningly sweet, I couldn't believe I had ever thought it appeared appetizing! Obviously, the tastes of Mitsukuni and I drastically differed - I suddenly recalled why I had never been a fan of this sugary meal. As a lesson learned, I immediately stored the fact that I, Komori Mikazuki-Karitei, did not like chocolate cake.

Not. At. All.

Remembering my manners, I forced the baked sludge down with a heavy gulp, switching my face into an impassive mast and lowering my fork. Blinking, I half-heartedly wondered if the initial bitterness coming from the utensil had been some form of foreshadowing.

Clearing my throat, I switched my attention to the small senior to my parallel. He munched happily, his own course reduced to nothing more than residual crumbs. He looked up as he rounded down the last bite, feeling my eyes. He expressed a grin through his own orbs, amiability faltering as his gaze settled on my barely-touched dish.

"Ah, Kari-chan?" he gulped, already smacking his lips with the lingering focus on my plate. "Are you going to eat that?"

My jaw unhinged, polite teachings the only thing keeping it from dropping. How could he possibly want anymore glucose in his system so soon? This diet of his couldn't be normal - or healthy.

I shook my head despite the inward thoughts, forcing a tight smile and pushing the plate forward. He cheered joyously, easily elated by the gesture.

I couldn't help but tweak my expression up authentically at the reaction. I had never cared to pay much attention to or notice the distinct personality of my senpai. Mitsukuni was renowned for his child-like innocence, cheerful disposition and complaisant conscious (I now assumed those characteristics were directly linked to his sugar-coated palate.) In any sense, he seemed to be a toddler trapped in a world of adults. But even that summary didn't seem exactly right. He was smart - top of his class and amazingly perceptive when he chose to be. Mitsukuni was unique in every sense of the word, the type of person who I couldn't plumb to have any enemies. If anyone could be in his presence and maintain anything but a flicker of happiness, they were undoubtedly not human.

My face slowly fell, past memories clouding over. I was only a short time ago when I myself had been one of those non-humans, using the boy's sensitivity to my own advantage. I recalled perfectly how I had probed him, watching his tears with my escape as the only concern. I could have kicked myself. How could I have even allowed desperation to overpower my humanity so drastically? Was I really so selfish?

"Haninozuka-senpai?"

Eyes lidded with guilt, I barely notice as the boy's name escaped from my lips in a hushed tone. He pouted, instantly protesting with, "Call me Honey!"

I nodded absent-mindedly, opening my mouth again only to falter in the next moment. What exactly was I supposed to say? 'I'm sorry' hardly seemed to be appropriate in this imbroglio - the cliched phrase was meaningless. What other choice was there? Should this be treated as a business blunder? That could work: he was a senior, after all. The formal appology should be more official from his perspective.

Inhaling a deep breath, I took advantage of the moment to gaze down into my lap and gather my words into reciting order. Settled and ready, I looked up to make crucial, bold eye contact before proceeding. "I must express, with the deepest contrite, my regrets for those actions in the courtyard this afternoon. I understand now that I was both underhanded and craven in those motives and can't find enough words to express my fault and remorse. I hope you can forgive my pusillanimous behavior."

I ended on that note, once again veering my gaze elsewhere. From the very corner of my eye, I watched apprehensively as the boy sat, unmoving. I began to second-guess the abrupt addressment. Had I startled him with the reminder? I had only jogged his memory of my worse side - he would only see me as a virago; a tyrannizing woman trying to overshadow her lesser side with an insincere apology. Perhaps I should have just let him live on, the both of us moving forward without the uncomfortable backward step?

_'No,' _I resolved with a sigh. Maybe Mitsukuni would have remained unruffled and oblivious, but after my own realization, it was obvious that this discussion was needed. I had acted unacceptably, and I needed whatever conclusion this would come to before I could allow myself to let it go. Personal morals would not be so forgiving if I didn't at least attempt this reconciliation.

"So..." the senior muttered, face screwed in confusion. I raised a brow, his emotion unexpected. Angry, yes. Possibly understanding or hesitant. But perplexed? "...your trying to say your sorry, right? That's what that whole thing meant?"

I almost gasped. I was sure the 'mature' approach had been the best way to go. He really didn't understand me at all...? Didn't he know what 'pusillanimous' meant? How could he not?! He was eighteen years old - my elder! He should have been impressed with my vocabulary knowledge, if anything!

Mitsukuni laughed, face lit with mirth. "You talk so confusing sometimes, Kari-chan! All you had to say was 'I'm sorry, please forgive me!'"

And just like that, his attention was side-tracked by the baked good before him.

I huffed in disbelief. A senior boy was telling me my speech was too complicated? And what about my apology - he had ignored it almost entirely! If he understood that much of my intention, couldn't he have commented on the responsibility I had taking in speaking up about it? It was truly heart-felt, no matter how 'confusing.' I was insulted.

"Oh!" the boy exclaimed suddenly, face wearing care. "I forgive you, Kari-chan! Kyou-chan can be scary sometimes, so I can see why you wanted to run away from him so badly."

An animated version of myself deadpanned in the safety of my mind at his momentary spark of recognition. By the time I recovered from the shock of even _picturing _myself in a deadpan, he had gone back to eating with renewed, edacious vigor until there was nothing but crumbs remaining.

A startle ranked across my spine, posture instantly erecting in a unguarded stupor. He had finished the cake? Both of them? But how?! Where had it all _gone_?

Mitsukuni gurgled in delight, blindly bringing the fork up to his lips for another bite. With the treat wholesomely devoured, however, the task was an impossible feat, only bringing empty metal to his tongue. He frowned at this discovery, muttering a vague "I need more cake..."

I could only stare.

**More?!**

* * *

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* * *

It was like observing the after affects of a circus performance, the job well-done and acrobats thrillingly exhausted. Mitsukuni was, without the slightest twinge of doubt in my mind, some kind of side-show freak: fourteen empty plates were stacked before his slumped form. Fourteen. I had counted as he went - it was _exactly _fourteen. Fourteen over-generous portions of cake were now ingested into this small man across from me, wasting away in his stomach and distributing the noxious toxins throughout every limb and organ.

How did he do it?

I didn't want to know - simply watching had been bad enough. I had begun to feel nauseous as the sixth plate was vacuumed into his system: after that, and I was sure I had just been imagining the rest (this was, after all, the realm of demons, if you wouldn't forget.) But no, these fourteen jejune dishes were the proof for whatever was left of my uncorrupted mind. I just didn't want to accept it; All that malnutritious junk packed into such an elfin boy? He should have bursting at the seems, in all laws of nature. It was a phenomenon I didn't care to witness ever again.

I had to give credit to this distraction, however, as it did keep me from quailing in regards to the collection of Host Club members gathered mere feet behind me.

"Aren't you done changing yet?"

Metal against metal was always unpleasant sound, disagreement only intensified when the blatant screech happened to interrupt one's out-of-body experience. I winced feverishly at the painful ring in my ear, altering my position in the seat to view whatever was going on from behind with an angry glare. I turned just in time to see Haruhi shunting a curtain to the side, stepping out from the make-shift changing room and commenting something on the permission she had to borrow the uniform she was now wearing.

The male's uniform.

I had nearly forgotten those dolts still hadn't figured out she was a young woman. At least she didn't look a fraction as grungy - it was actually an excellent look, well fit for an upstanding Ouran student.

If that student was a boy.

"Oh, cute~!! Your as pretty as a girl! _Adorable_!"

"Haru-chan, you look so cute!"

"If we had known that's how you really look..."

"...we would have helped you sooner!"

"Who knows? Maybe it'll draw in some costumers."

Haruhi seemed oddly comfortable posing as a male. And being surrounded by males. And being included in that group of males with welcome.

...I supposed my services were no longer needed. She wanted to change sides and fit in with those out side of her kind? That was fine with me.

Good riddance.

My expression was monotonous. Fools, all of them. "Osakini. I'm leaving."

Of course, the Club's coos and awes over Haruhi's made-over appearance entirely drowned out my announced dismissal, but I couldn't have cared any less. They could be left to gawk and lower their intelligence quotients all they wanted - it was no concern of mine. They were wrapped up in their own business, and this was my opportunity to return to my own. I made my way out of the room, unnoticed and unstopped.

The way it should have happened hours ago.

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* * *

It had taken me the entire walk down to the front gates to realize that I had yet to call the mansion for a ride in advance. Waiting by the school's entrance and snapping my cellular phone shut, there was really nothing to do other than take a rest on one of the wooden benches by the fountain. I wasn't sure whether or not the fact that I had fifteen free minutes to myself was a good or a bad thing: I wanted to be safely tucked away in my own home as soon as possible, but perhaps this was a blessing to be left alone in tranquility and gather the endless thoughts plaguing my mind. It almost didn't come as a surprise when they immediately drifted back to Haruhi and the Host Club - I had spent more time in those male's presence on this one day than I had in our entire educational career.

It was all Haruhi's fault. She comes in and just like that, my 'No Host Club' resolve had been hacked to pieces. I had deliberately avoided each of the males even before the committee's Senior High School formation, knowing of their traits and potential to destroy. Tamaki, thank goodness, had only been a classmate for three years (three too many, personally.) The two older senpai had never been a great problem to avoid and, honestly, were the least worthy of receiving of my ill judgment; the most tolerable, without question. And the twins... well, wolves had a knack of sticking together and only biting those that came too close. The quintessential enemy when confronted, but harmless if other wise left to themselves.

It was Kyouya that was the real problem.

I suppose I wouldn't have grown to despise him nearly as much if he had been a transfer like Tamaki - even the worst personalities didn't seem so bad when you knew your time with them was limited. But Kyouya I had known since before I had even known the consequences of knowing him. Although, to say that I 'know' him was an extremely loose term. In all honesty, if you were to assume we shared some type of arcane relationship that filled my gut with sun-kissed butterflies, you'd be mistaken. Horrible wrong, even.

My contempt was real: there was no silver lining.

I wouldn't go as far as to say I _hated _the boy: he was simply disagreeable. Our personalities clashed in a way I could never see being patched. From the time we were youngsters latched to our mothers' heels to the present, there had always a strange sense of an ominous electrical current between the two of us. I learned very early to stay clear and stray from any road that led us to cross paths, knowing that it was in both of our best interests. But after eleven years of sharing the same classroom, constant avoidance was understandably difficult. With such a painted face as the fledgling Ootori wore, there was no certainty of what jagged edges were beneath the sculpted veneer. That was the wost kind - the two-faced, alternate-intentioned, epicurean men. Capable of putting on any outward face for the given situation and molding the entranced people around him into pawns for success. His potential was untrammeled and it -for lack of better explanation- scared the life out of me.

Any one who spent only minutes with the boy would know his type instantly: the conniving type. 'Cool,' as Tamaki had dubbed him, effortlessly winding you into a hypnotically world and turning it around with the blink of an eye to leave you broken and used, all before you could even think to ask his name. The clandestine 'bad boy' girls seemed to find so appealing.

I didn't know what was so appealing about a selfish swindler, if you asked me. Sycophants held no attraction what-so-ever, by right. It was a natural instinct for me to shun him, if anything.

It was a common argument that people's pasts and surroundings helped to shape them into the people they are today - John Locke's Enlightenment ideas in the working. So what had hapened to those like Kyouya who strove for nothing more than personal benifit and gain for themselves by any means and any casualties? The boy had been born into near royalty, likely being served from a golden plate his entire life. Don't even try preaching the 'abandoned and unloved' son of nobility; that argument was effete, worn and spent. So then, he was the third son and instantly unworthy of the family's full hier granting?

The poor, poor thing.

Never to own his very own company, building up his wealth with more applied work - I could see the dilemma. The American Dream was nothing more than a chivalric fantasy: nowhere in the world did anyone want to actually _work_ their way to the top; it was so close to being handed to him, but pulled out from under by something as lilliputian as birth order.

The nerve.

As bitter and cynical as he was, I was interested in watching the Ootori underling from the side lines. I often wondered (far more than I should, I'll be the first to admit) just how far his progression would go. How long will he be willing to chase after the single spark of hope in gaining the family business? Was it really so important to him as to throw away all interactive life and childhood pleasures? Why?

I released a flaccid sigh, looking down into the settling pond water near my feet. 'Why' was indeed the question - why was I thinking so much about the trivial workings of Ootori Kyouya? It made no difference to me if he was to be granted the medical field or not: I disliked him either way. A part of me only seemed to be interested because of the unique situation, the other imagining a triumphant man and his reaction to the win. Would he still remain so cold and shunning if he were to surpass all odds and luck out? If he beat out his brothers for the company, would he then allow himself to be happy?

Once again, a biting conscious brought up the fact of _why I should care_. So what if he chose to be miserable and alone? It was his right. My curiosity wasn't so insistent. It would make no Olympian difference to me. Victory or not, he was still he, and I was still I. We were two separate people, different and repelling. He came from a dysfunctional family, brought into the world as an underdog climbing his way to the top harbinger. Never to be full understood, never wanting to be fully understood. He carved himself into whatever people wanted him to be, using the leverage to his own extent and looking out for himself solely. He purposefully, tactfully, drew people away and laid down walls surrounding his soul. And I -

The blaring horn was enough of a cracking whip in the silence to cause me to bolt up to my feet. My neck snapped towards the gate, a Komori Family limo pulled up to the curb and calling my attention. I steadied my breathing, adjusting the falling layers of my skirt before walking forward, pensive ripples covering my features. The only interruption was a sudden series of splashes echoing from the very place I had just left, my feet locking at the sound.

Only birds, I was sure.

Hurrying my steps and reaching the vehicle, I waited diligently as the driver opened my door and slid in without a word, face calm and solid. It was only after the elderly man had shut the door and begun his walk to the driver's seat did I drop the façade, brows knitting and smirk burning.

Maybe the reason I dwelled so much on Kyouya was that we were far more alike than any outsider could have ever guessed.

* * *

**(A/N) I'm SUPER sorry about the insane time gap between this and the last chapter (and that absolutely nothing happened in this chapter to make up for it.) Theatre has been keeping me obnoxiously busy lately and when I do have free time I just want to relax :[ I hope you guys don't hate me!**

**Okay, I'm pretty sure I've said this in every other chapter, but: things will get much more interesting and fun once I get past all the plot arrangements, I promise! I got a little bored with this, so I can only imagine your feelings. Once things settle into place between the characters, I can really focus on humor and romance rather than all this development stuff I'm doing now ;P I have ****SO**** many plans for this story, it's proving to be difficult to set it all up. **

**I wrote that reconciliation scene between Karitei and Homey specifically to address the writing style of this story - it's from the OC's head, and the sort of stuck-up, pompous nature of the words reflects her personality. As she loosens up, so will the wordings, rest assured. As much as I love to show off the stupid vocab words I remember from class, it sounds so weird to actually use them :P My normal talk is nothing like this!**

**[1] I don't know if this is general, but in Japan it's usually considered polite to refuse food multiple times when visiting another person's home until they won't take no for an answer and shove it down your throat (not literally, of course!) I'm just not sure whether that's more of a refined adult custom or only in a person's home kind of thing.**

**I'm skipping the rest of the first episode. Hazzah! The next chapter will start up original (OC's family life, I'm thinking) and delve into the second episode at some point - I just couldn't put up with it anymore. The slow moving plot line is killing me!**

**...Man, I really talk a lot, huh?**

**##Happy Holidays, everyone!##**


	5. Chapter 5

**Let's Not Change the World**

Chapter Five

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"Your dinner, Komori-sama."

I sent the maid a perfunctory nod of acknowledgment, gazing down at the plate with a dull stare. The meal was a favorite guilty pleasure of mine - baked stuffed lobster, caught and shipped fresh from the Atlantic Ocean this morning. I felt my tongue watering in the confinements of my mouth longingly as the scent tantalized my taste buds. My gaze lifted up towards the rest of the table, the impractical length only amplified by a vast emptiness. I was alone today, left to eat my supper in solitude.

It should have been an obvious hint when the butler had informed me of the seafood I would be served as he took my coat upon entrance to the manor. The familiarity of his tender stare and careful wording was too much to deny, as I looked back. It was foolish of me to have ignored the implication. Of course, this choice of food was simply a compensation: a peace offering. The crustacean took my family's place tonight.

I sighed, pulling the corners of my lips up as I picked up my fork. A little time to yourself never hurt anyone, after all. I should relish in the chance to escape business duties and bask in this moment of ostracism. Could I honestly say I would rather be at that promotional meeting with the rest of them than comfortably settled in my own home? I would think not. This was a blessing, really. It all depended on how you looked at it.

Munching contently on the fine cuisine, I decided that this lobster was the only thing I needed in life.

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"Fujioka-san, this isn't a library, if you'd care to notice."

I hadn't meant to be particularly rude - it was just the discovery of the girl seated on the bench (_my_bench, as I had just recently dubbed it) wasn't an overly welcomed sight. Since the day Haruhi and I had met, that fateful crossing of paths four days ago that left me both humiliated and misunderstood, this specific seat beside the school's fountain had been a constant residence during my lunch hour. The comfort it had provided after that hellish experience just might have been the only thing that kept my sanity in tact; I wasn't about to pass up the tranquility of the scene very soon after. Ipso facto, Haruhi, no matter how seemingly tolerable, was not an acceptable visitor.

The commoner exhaled, she herself giving off an uncensored aura of irritation as she dragged her gaze up from the book in her lap to meet my stare. "I know that, Komori-sempai. This is just the quietest place I've been able to find since I've been here. It's really hard to try and study when every one is making so much noise around you..."

My eyes narrowed, only the most minute traces of sympathy twinging in my gut. So what if she couldn't spend every free millisecond of her time gobbling up knowledge? This was **my** spot! There were plenty of other places around the campus for her to indulge herself that weren't part of my unofficial property.

"You could always try the restrooms," I suggested, dauntlessly allowing a hint of malice to slip into my tone. "I'm sure there won't be much interference in there for you."

Fully aware of her unwanted company, the freshman frowned, closing her book grudgingly. "This must be your regular place to hang out during breaks, right?" she drawled, tucking the papers into her ragged bag and lifting herself to her feet. I nodded, accomplished smirk curling into my features as I crossed my arms.

Even while she had stood, it seems she was taking her time to actually leave. Obviously, the misfit understood that she was 'different' and the idea effected her more than she let on. The fact of the matter was, this girl had nature itself going against her at the moment: average commoners weren't designed to succeed. People like her were born to serve the people like me - us of Ouran and rulers of the next generation. So what if she had gotten a make-over and was gaining a few female followers? The only reason they liked her was because she made a fairly attractive _boy_. What would she have when the truth of her identity came out? She would be even more of an outcast than she had been on arrival! I was doing her a favor with my blunt honesty. She should learn her place sooner and save herself from the future backstabbing and false pretenses. The Host Club were simply using her as a doll, ready to be tossed away to Good Will once her purpose had been fulfilled. I, therefore, was clearly the better person.

"I guess I should get going to the Host Club anyway before they come looking for me..." the girl grumbled under her breath (perfectly audible, naturally.) I raised a brow, feigning disinterest and examining my manicured finger nails. Could she take any longer to leave my sight, really?

"You're still hanging around those boys, are you?" I questioned, making it clear I didn't side with her view. Why was I bothering with this idle chit-chat, anyway? I wanted her gone, didn't I? Carrying out a conversation wouldn't help with that goal. Perhaps a part of me was actually curious.

Haruhi shifted her knapsack onto a shoulder, squinting towards me in disbelief. "You were there, weren't you? You know why I have to keep working for them - I have a debt to pay."

"So then, pay it," I concurred simply. What use was there in blaming money as the problem? Obviously, she was still a female and unwilling to part with this trump card of inside access to the Host Club. Why should I think it not part of her motives just because she was a street rat?

The androgynous snorted. My lip curled.

I rolled my eyes after a moment, figuring she was neither about to answer or be on her way. "You did say you wanted to be a lawyer, didn't you? I'm sure you're aware of the costs of schooling in that field?"

The ghastly noise left the girl for a second time. "There's a difference between spending a fortune towards my future and paying for a single vase. I could never earn enough money to replace that vase _and_ raise the funds for college."

I wasn't moved. "You have parents, I assume. They should have jobs if they hold any place at all in society."

Haruhi ruffled mood seemed to take a turn, her already pinched face morphing into a new form of sullen. I had struck light nerve, apparently. What luck. Maybe I could get the freakish tomboy to crack her cover if I pushed enough...

"My father isn't exactly in the same salary group as yours, Komori-sempai," she spoke stiffly. I wondered why she was still bothering to hang around at all. Was my elusive verbal torture really any better than that vile boy's club? Did she _want_ me to break her down? I only needed the invitation, after all. She seemed more than willing for the abuse.

"Nevertheless," I exhaled, blinking down at the girl carelessly. In all honesty, she made a far better _he_ than _she_. I wouldn't have seen anything wrong at all with her making this gender change permanent (besides the obvious scandal of it all.) It was almost like she was born to be a male - appearance, attitude and ambition adding up. It had to have been slip-up of nature that handed her the female genes. "You can't expect to be found promising enough to receive some sort of full scholarship for the remainder of your education. Things don't work quite so easily in this world."

Her stare was determined to prove me wrong. "I got here, didn't I? Besides, I'm not expecting some kind of free ride. Why do you think I study all the time? I know how much hard work it'll take for me to get noticed for those kind of financial benefits, so I have to do all the work I can to stay on top of my classes and show that I'm dedicated."

She looked to the side, seeming to be biting her cheek in annoyed brooding. "That kind of stuff would be a lot easier if I didn't have the Host Club to worry about, though."

I came close to rolling my eyes. Did she listen at all? "Then don't deal with them."

The tick mark above Haruhi's left ear didn't go unnoticed. "Haven't you been listening to me?! I have a dept to pay!"

Hmph, the commoner was accusing **me** of not listening? She should have been pleased enough that I was allowing her to speak with me in the first place. Didn't poverty have any respect these days?

Her moment of lost nerve aside, Haruhi took in a deep breath and turned her gaze skyward. I could almost feel the tension leaving her with that exhale of CO2. "Until I can get one hundred customers, I'm stuck working as a host..."

I blinked. "Interesting. Now why don't you go do your job then, rather than standing here complaining about it."

That time, the zap of agitation was visible. "You're the one who asked in the first place!"

"You're rather rude, Haruhi. I don't know how things are done in commoner schools, but here in society people are expected to respect their sempai."

"Well, your not exactly being very kind to me, either, sempai."

This was too easy. Pressing her buttons was almost fun.

"I understand class distinction, Fujioka-san. You should learn it, too, if your trying to join our world."

I didn't know how our talk of studies and after school activities had turned into the infamous literary 'society verses nature' argument, but the evidence was unfolding perfectly; The lower class common folk blaming society for all of their troubles. Why couldn't things have remained as they were in the days of Kings? Commoners knew their place then - they were the mongrels. They never tried to sneak up in their ranks back in those times. What had changed now in this century? Why was this sniveling girl suddenly admitted into a castle like Ouran Academy? It just wasn't right. This was a place for kings, not slaves.

"Fine, Komori-sempai. You win," Haruhi said dully, adjusting the straps of her knapsack and taking the first step towards the building. "I'll go find somewhere else to study."

And the worms crawls away from the bird at long last.

"But you should know…"

I narrowed my eyes at the male blazer's back, feeling some sort of lecture coming along. This penniless rodent was going to preach to _me_? Who did she think she was?

Haruhi didn't even bother to face me again as she delivered her warning, merely standing with her back to me as she spoke. "If you're always so nasty to people, you'll never be able to make any friends."

Friends? This girl was commenting on my lack of _friends_?

"I mean, its not as if you seem to mind that you're always alone. You probably drive people away on purpose. It must have something to do with not trusting yourself to open up to others. I get that - it's a common insecurity."

Insecurity? Insecurity?! I was NOT, in any way, shape, or form, _insecure_. Was Haruhi really speaking out so boldly against the way I lived my life? This girl had a lot to learn about her place.

"But, you know, in the end I don't believe anyone wants to be alone. People are just afraid of what could happen when they let others get involved when its always just been themselves."

I should have set her straight; I should have demanded she shut her mouth and reconsider who she was speaking to. I couldn't, however. I was too shocked. Like a mute, I simply stood there and let her words slam into me head on as they were carried in with the wind.

Haruhi sighed, her shoulder visibly relaxing after her words had been said. "Ja ne, Komori-sempai. I hope things work out for you."

I watched her leave, not moving a muscle until she had disappeared into the structure. When she was out of my sight I didn't waste a moment to reclaim my bench, the sour taste in my mouth twisting a scowl onto my lips.

She was wrong. Of course she was wrong - she was a commoner! She didn't know the first thing about me and was so indisputably wrong to try and pin my motives like that. I wasn't come victim who feared human relations - I love my solitude! I reveled in these opportunities to sit in silence and simply think. It was everyone else who had the problems; The rest of the world was full of lying, cheating, immature, cowardly beings who weren't worth even a moment of my time. This detachment was a good thing: I would never be corrupted by those tainted individuals.

Huffing and gathering my wits, I took in a deep breath to regain my calm state of mind. No, Haruhi was not right. I would show her the error of her ways. I was in confinement now, wasn't I? And I was content.

Alone at last.

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* * *

"How was school today, Karitei?"

"Interesting."

My mother smiled lightly. "You always say that so lackadaisically, I wonder if you find your classes interesting at all."

"Of course she doesn't," my father pointed out between bites. "You remember your time in high school, Imma. Teenagers don't find their studies _interesting_, even when they are at the top of their class."

He sighed heavily, placing down his fork as a butler interrupted to inform him of a phone call.

"Its the same thing once you get older, Karitei," he spoke as he stood from his seat and excused himself. "Even as a working adult, your career is no more exciting than your education; Things just get less enjoyable as you age. Enjoy your youth while you can, kids. Sumimasen, minna."

And with those worda of wisdom my father deserted the dinner table. I didn't mind in particular; I was glad enough that I had gotten those few minutes with him before the company reclaimed his time. It had been a while since I had heard him utter so many words in my direction, no matter how cryptic.

"Don't mind him, Karitei," my mother admonished, eyes crinkling as she grinned. "You shouldn't so pessimistic while you're still young. Your father is an old man - he's earned that blasé attitude about life."

I smirked, focusing on the Italian ravioli before me. Even the spinach and cheese filling tasted just a bit better when there was company here as I ate. I was glad that my family had made the time to sit down together and eat. It wasn't as if my parents were bad people, they were just busy. The company took up a majority of their time and I had to accept that sometimes their work came before me.

"Okaa-san," a tiny male voice pipped up from across the table. My smirk turned to a scowl. "Will I hate school as much as nee-san?"

My mother laughed, eyeing her son fondly. Of course she would be fond of him - even at the tender age of five, he was her (and my father's) heir. In thirteen years he would inherit everything to do with the Komori family. Despite my better knowledge, reason, and responsibility, he would have his riches handed to him when I was already wedded and producing _more_ heirs as my purpose in life. By the time he would be of age to take over the business, I would be a thirty-year-old has-been.

As a young woman with a male sibling, I was reduced to the extra trump card in my parent's plans. For twelve years of my life I had been the apple of my parents eye and their sole source of joy; But that was before Komori Kanaye-Ronin came into this world and ruined my name. As of his birth, I was nothing more than the 'other child'. The daughter - the less important protégé.

An infant had tarnished my reputation in society, and I hated him for it. He was the one they put on a higher priority: he was the one that was just as important as the company itself.

"Of course not, Ronin!" my mother laughed, assuring the young boy with her positive energy. I felt sickened just watching the scene. "You'll be very smart and popular - just look at your heritage! You'll be number one in your class and the heart heartthrob of Ouran, I'm sure."

Yes, of course he would be. Number one; The most beloved student - the future Suou Tamaki. In other words, he would be bigger and better than I: everything that I had failed to live up to. It was his destiny.

Ronin grinned that childish grin, sparing a glance in my direction before looking away just as quickly and masking his joy with shame. He knew of my disdain for him, obviously, and I couldn't find it in myself to feel bad about that. He had made my life unhappy, so I would make his just a small portion as unenjoyable. It was only fair.

It was the only way I could gain just the slightest bit of vantage over him.

**

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**

**(A/N) T.T**

**Um... if you think that this is the first update in six months, you must be crazy...**

**...Or completely right.** **But I'd go with crazy for still reading this far after I've been such a horrible author ^-^**


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